


Moon Tribe Battles

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Canon deaths, F/M, Kings & Queens, Knotting, M/M, Magic, Marriage, Marriage Equality, Mating Bond, Mpreg, Peace, Prince Stiles Stilinski, Slavery, Soulmates, Vaginal Sex, Violence, War, Witch Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 10:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19293988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: Derek was an alpha and a general of the Moon Tribe and he was fierce and unfaltering. This war had been going on for generations and Derek had grown up with blood beneath his claws. Beyond the stench of death, blood, gunpowder, and crackling magic was the unbelievably alluring scent of Derek's mate.





	1. Chapter 1

This story came to me, in full, in a dream... Right after one about having a catastrophic car accident induced by a spider flying in my face and distracting my husband, who then drove our car off a cliff and to our inevitable almost-doom with our child terrified in the back seat. My husband laughed the whole time while I screamed in terror and tried to reach into the back to comfort our child. It was a LONG fall. We all made it out alive, including the spider. WTF did I eat? Don't worry, there's no spiders or car accidents in this story. Just good old-fashioned war and love.

 

 

 

Derek sliced his way through the knight in front of him with a savage snarl. His blade might have been sharp, but Derek sported five on each hand and he wasn't hesitant with his claws. He was an alpha and a general of the Moon Tribe and he was fierce and unfaltering. As he stepped over the corpse of his most recent opponent he studied the battle field with an expert eye. This war had been going on for generations and Derek had grown up with blood beneath his claws. His parents had fallen in a bombing, his eldest sister just months before on a similar field, and his youngest brother had been a victim of PTSD. The war was never ending, but this battle... this battle was fizzling out. He could see the signs. No one had called retreat- they never did- but there were too many losses on the human side to continue. They were either lying on the ground pretending to be dead in the hopes they were passed over until the prince healed them- a fruitless and cowardly action as the werewolves could hear their heartbeats- had stopped fighting and were waiting leaning on their weapons in clear defeat, or were surrendering individually. The cowards feigning death Derek quickly dispatched; they would only be tried for treason and killed by their own people or put into slavery in the ore mines. If they were actually injured he'd send them to the medics on their side, where they'd be patched up to become slaves in _his_ family's mines.

 

Derek had just called the medics over to take a look at one soldier who was lying on the ground staring in horror at his severed arm when the scent caught his nose. It was teasing at first, and his first thought was that he had caught the scent of a delicious meal being cooked at the mess tents. Who the hell had they found to cook _actual food_ for them instead of slop? However, another breath led him to realize the truth. Beyond the stench of death, blood, gunpowder, and crackling magic was the unbelievably alluring scent of Derek's _mate_.

 

Derek's steps sped up, ignoring folks lying on the ground left and right in order to track the scent of his _future_. Every werewolf dreamed of finding their mate. It was a guarantee to stronger children, a lifelong partnership, and the kind of pack bonds that meant _alpha_. Derek might already be alpha since his sister's death, but his pack was small and their bonds weak. This mate would make him _strong_. As the newest and least experienced leader of the Moon Tribe he was being questioned and put to the test by his sister and mother's remaining pack. This would solidify his stance. No one would question a mated pair.

 

Derek stopped and stared down at the bloodied body of the man who was his mate. For a moment he felt a sense of absolute loss and emptiness. Dead. His mate was _dead_. What the hell was the point of this entire _war_ if the one thing that was meant to give a werewolf purpose and joy was already _gone_ before it could even be loved _?_ Then the heartbeat stuttered and he took a faltering breath and Derek realized he was depleted. This was a _spark_ , and sparks could outlive their damaged bodies. His mate would live so long as his magic sustained him.

 

Derek scooped the bloodied body up into his arms and began pulling pain, knowing his own form of magic would bolster the human's. The human took another breath and then another. It was still shaky, but it was there. Present. Alive. It might not last though so Derek couldn't be blamed if he buried his nose in the human's hair and breathed in deeply- black licorice and electricity- to memorize the scent of his mate beyond the stench of the battle field. If this were the last and only time he had him alive in his arms he would need something to remember him by because there was no one else for Derek now. He would either follow his mate into the darkness beyond or spend the rest of his life alone and miserable like Peter, slowly going mad without his mate to succor him.

 

Derek forced himself to refocus and turned quickly to sniff the air, catching the scent of the medical tent- wolfsbane and smoke- and ran as fast as he could towards hope.

 

He burst through the tent and found the nearest cot, laying the human down. He was snarling out orders before his words processed. He was fairly certain the words 'my mate' left his lips, but it wasn't as if it would ever stay a secret. Any were' who saw them together would know, even before their bond were solidified.

 

Two medics stepped forward, abandoning lesser injuries to care for the spark on the table. They had a kit which they began to wind up. It made electricity by rubbing two magnetic stones together until they could shock the life back into damaged wizarding folk.

 

“A star child?” Peter's satin voice purred, “Really Derek?”

 

Derek's flesh crawled but he ignored his rising hackles and focused on watching the mages work. One was muttering about how the human shouldn't have been moved and Derek flushed in shame. He _knew_ that. Whatever injuries he'd had Derek had likely made worse by sprinting across a battle field without securing his limbs first.

 

“It's almost... embarrassing,” Peter purred in his ear, “What _will_ your people think?”

 

“Done with subtly trying to undermine me and take over my mother's tribe?” Derek growled.

 

“Who was being subtle?” Peter growled, stepping back, “ _My sister_ never meant for you to be alpha of her _pack_ let alone leader of the tribes.”

 

“Than she should have named you successor,” Derek didn't even spare him a glance. He was the heir. Laura's power wouldn't have come to him if Laura hadn't trusted him to inherit it. Peter had been bypassed by nature itself, and he could shut the hell up about it.

 

Derek winced as they shocked the hell out of the human and his entire body convulsed on the table. His heartbeat was steady afterwards, his breathing rapid but consistent, and Derek let out a slow breath of relief.

 

Eyes like amber fluttered open, unfocused at first before realizing that something was off and beginning to dart around. Derek leaned over him instantly, giving him a strong figure to look to for safety as his magic sizzled in the air.

 

“You're safe,” Derek told him firmly, “Let our healer's work.”

 

“Your,” He wheezed.

 

Derek frowned in question.

 

“Your healers,” He whispered, eyes sliding closed in defeat, “Not ours.”

 

“What is your name?” The healer asked, leaning forward to flash his eyes with a mirrored surface that reflected the lantern's light.

 

“Stiles?”

 

“Stiles what?”

 

Stiles swallowed hard a few times while Derek turned the name over in his head. Stiles. His mate was named Stiles. He'd be howling the name _Stiles_ in coital bliss for the rest of his life.

 

“Sir?” The medic demanded, “What is your last name? Do you recall?”

 

“No. It's... fuzzy,” He admitted, eyes opening to glance around him, “My head hurts.”

 

“You've sustained severe injuries,” The medic told him, “Your magic was all that was sustaining you. It's not uncommon to be disoriented when you first awake and memory loss is common to having your body shutting down on you. We're going to patch you up now. It's going to be very painful, but you're going to have to keep your magic in check. Do not attack us or we will be forced to let you die.”

 

Derek's eyes flashed red in anger and the human on the cot whimpered in fear. The medic ignored him. This was _their_ domain and Derek's authority here was pointless and ignored. Another medic coaxed him into backing away and letting them work, assuring him they would be giving him plenty of pain drains throughout the procedures that would _save his life, back off alpha, we're working here._ Derek stepped back with hands upheld and frown firmly fixed on his face.

 

The tent flap moved again and Derek glanced up, surprised more were being brought in this late since the battle had wound down when he'd found Stiles. Wolves would be heading home if they were still alive and human pack members were either far from the battle or already being patched up. Instead, the wolves who entered were the alphas of the four other packs that made up the Moon Tribe. It seemed that word had spread that the lead alpha's mate had been found.

 

Derek squared his shoulders and gave them a steady glance before refocusing his attention on his mate. The healers were cutting his clothes away and Derek wouldn't miss a moment of his mate while alive, just in case he did not pull through. He'd lost enough loved ones to know to cherish today. Beneath the grime that coated his clothes making even his ethnicity hard to distinguish his mate was pale as sand and dotted in beauty marks. He was slender but had subtle muscle tone, and a line of hair down his belly to a bush that surrounded his cut length. Derek had never touched a man who was circumcised before, but he would learn for the spark before him. He heard they had less sensation, so he would have to be twice as talented in bed.

 

“I see what has you so enthralled,” Peter taunted.

 

Derek growled, deep and warning, and the beta wisely slunk off and left the tent completely. Derek and the other alphas continued to watch as they cleaned his wounds, stitched them closed where needed, and poured medicine both on his skin and into his mouth. His mate was soon unconscious again, but this time it was from exhaustion rather than failing organs. He was being revived in other ways and he was weak with the work his body was doing to heal.

 

Alpha Satomi walked the distance from where the other alphas stood to stand by him in comfort. He could smell her pity and concern for him. Across the space were his other alpha leaders and Derek found himself glancing over to ascertain their thoughts on the matter before them.

 

First and most obviously vacant was Scott McCall, resident pacifist and someone Derek thought of mainly with disdain. He had withdrawn his pack from the battles, insisting once he inherited his mother's pack that there be _peace_ , but he had no idea how to achieve that. He wanted them to just... stop fighting. As if that were ever a choice when hunters were involved. His pack had splintered because of his choice, half his betas spreading out to join Derek, Satomi, Kali, and Ennis. His pack had already been huge though, so he wasn't much affected by the splintering but the rest of the packs _had_ been harmed. Why? Because McCall pack were nearly all healers. So they were left with only those who had left McCall to heal their wounded soldiers while the rest withdrew back to McCall's castle where they took to art and trade as if a hundred year war had never reigned. Rumor had it they were even trading with the hunters, which was bringing up accusations of treason.

 

Second, and not meeting anyone's eyes, was Alpha Kali. She was a cold bitch through and through, a compliment among their kind, and lived for war. She called herself the goddess of destruction and Derek had feared her since childhood. She was the nightmare that had made him afraid to put his feet down on the floor to go to the bathroom at night, certain that she could sneak up on him unheard or scented and slit his throat out of sheer boredom between battles.

 

Last, but by far not least, was Alpha Ennis. Ennis was a tower of a man, built to battle and without a thought in his head. Literally. Derek had never even heard him speak and wasn't sure he could. He would just make eye contact with his mate Kali and she would translate for him. Derek was certain he was a puppet alpha, which only made Kali more terrifying as it meant she reigned over _two packs_ without hesitation. Two violent packs who lived to fight battles, making Derek the leader of a divided country since Sitomi had spoken time and again that the war _must end some day_. She was by no means a pacifist, but she was also done fighting. She had been a part of this war before Derek's mother had ascended as alpha and she was tired of watching young ones die.

 

Then there was Derek, fore mentioned Hale heir. His mother and father had died when their home had been bombed in the middle of a cease fire. Derek and his siblings had been out at a rally hosted by Melissa McCall. A peace rally. She'd been trying to convince the younger generation not to let their parent's war become theirs since no other alphas were on her side and she couldn't see leaving the packs without their healers. Derek had left pumped with the idea of... well, of his sisters talking their way out of things. He'd wanted so much more than war back then. They all had. Laura had wanted to become a lawyer, so of course remediation seemed a logical conclusion. Derek just wanted to work on cars, the faster and hotter the better. Cora had wanted to be an architect. His brother Jacob had wanted to be a psychologist. What thirteen year old wanted to be a psychologist? In retrospect, it made sense because not two hours after they found their home destroyed and their parents and aunt dead Jacob had killed himself.

 

A bombing during a _ceasefire a_ nd the death of his youngest sibling all added up to a reality that Derek had been forced to accept. The hunters could _not_ be reasoned with. They were monsters. Murderers. They could not be trusted to treat with them. Derek and Laura had abandoned the idea of peace, and Cora had begun designing houses that withstood bombs, fires, or were easy to pick up and move in a moment's notice.

  
They were children of war. They were adaptable, fast, vicious, and eternally traumatized.

 

This young spark was no different except... except the clothes he wore were not the green of the Moon Tribe, but the dark, bloodstained, red of the Hunters. Even as he knew the other alphas had gathered to see the alpha's mate, it was not in congratulations they stood there, but in a show of force. There would be no beautiful skinclad handfasting beneath the next full moon. No roll in the moss by a creek as each sought to fill the other with cubs, assuming either was even fertile. Not all male/male couples could conceive, but him being a spark certainly improved the odds of...

 

Of nothing. Of absolutely nothing, because even as Satomi sighed sadly beside him Kali dangled a pair of cuffs in her hands. The head healer glanced over and nodded. It was time. They were done and Stiles had only to rest and heal.

 

Derek stepped forward before the alpha of prisons and slavers could reach him and stood firmly in her way.

 

“He's a spark. He'd be useless in your mines. He needs starlight to weave his magic. Leave him to me. He belongs to me anyway. He's my _mate_.”

 

Kali smirked and held out the cuffs to Derek.

 

“Now you're talking,” She chuckled weakly, “I've been saying we should be using them for sex for ages.”

 

“What?” Derek jerked his hand back in horror.

 

“Think of it!” Kali crowed, “If we use the _slaves_ to breed, then they'll be sitting at home having new soldiers for us while we battle! We won't have to stop to birth the next generation!”

 

From the bed came a gasp of horror and Derek couldn't even look towards his mate to see what kinds of fear and disgust would be there. Alpha Ennis nodded, grinning lasciviously as he rubbed his hands together and laughed so deeply it sounded as if it had been recorded and slowed down. Derek grimaced. He recalled their ideas and he couldn't condone them. Slaves were one thing- it was a step up from execution even if it were reprehensible- but sex slaves? He had heard stories of werewolf captives being used as... as... _fetishes_ to entertain the human leaders.

 

“No,” Derek stated firmly.

 

“No?” Kali pouted, “Than I guess if he can't be a slave and you aren't going to breed him the only other option is execution. After all, keeping non-functional prisoners _was_ ruled a drain on our already stretched supplies.”

 

Derek grimaced. If he kept Stiles for himself he'd be setting a dangerous and unconscionable precedent, not to mention there was no way a slave could consent. It would be rape, plain and simple, even if they were meant to be together. They had to have _some_ morals left to them in this hellish warscape. If he left him go to the slave mines he'd wilt. You could bleed a spark dry and their magic would keep them alive for as long as possible, but put them underground and they would fade into nothingness. He'd be skeletal within a week. A shadow within two. Dead within a month. Like the traitorous soldiers trying to fake their own deaths who Derek had put down on the field, execution would be more kind.

 

“Fine,” Derek spoke softly, putting his hands out for the cuffs, “He stands trial for crimes against the Moon Tribe as soon as he is able to leave the medical ward.”

 

For a moment Kali's eyes faltered into a look of shock and the cuffs she'd been teasingly spinning on one finger fell to a slow stop. Then she steeled her stance, apparently bolstered by his resolve to _kill his mate_ rather than bend to her lack of principles. He had just succeeded in earning her _respect_. How absolutely repulsive and... necessary. A glance at Ennis showed him smiling as if fond, and McCall...

 

McCall was looking at him as if he'd just confirmed every single unpleasant thought he'd ever had. He gave Derek a scowl of pure disgust and outrage, turned on his tail, and stormed off with a swish of tent fabric.

 

It seemed Derek had made a few allies at last, and since McCall had already split he had lost no one.

 

Except his one shot at happiness.

 

Kali stepped forward and slid one of the cuffs onto Stiles' arm and clicked the other on the cot. Derek watched as brilliant brown eyes with striking light in them moved down to the spark's arm. He lifted his arm weakly to the length of the cuff and stared down at it silently. Derek felt his stomach twist in disgust. He was right to take what few breaths he could of his mate's scent while he'd had the chance. Like all things Derek loved, his mate would not last the month.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles had spent his time in the medical ward having his wounds treated and his body nursed back to health with some seriously tasteless soup. Honestly, would it kill them to use some fucking herbs? Each night they'd wheeled him outside to soak in the starlight for a few hours. It wasn't actually necessary. Or effective. Not that he'd tell them that he didn't actually need to soak in the starlight to survive since it got him out of becoming a slave in the mines. Stiles definitely would wilt there, just not for the reasons they thought.

 

As a witch Stiles required rituals to reconnect him to nature and power up his spark. That those rituals took place naked beneath said stars were just some of the ingredients of warlock soup. It also involved burning willow branches, chanting, and a lot of drinking of weird ass brews that he made himself. Each witch had their own brew and Stiles' tasted like salty socks.

 

Hey, it wasn't by choice, these things were just as ordained as him being a spark was. The spell and the potion contents _came to him_. He didn't pick out salty socks as his rejuvenation potion because he had a certain love of locker room floors.

 

No, Stiles was healing well not because of the soaking up of the starlight, but because they'd zapped his spark which... hey, that's a much more interesting way to recharge! Who'd have thought that werewolves held an easier recharge method! Although, Stiles wouldn't be shocked if Deaton had been aware of and keeping that one a secret. He was a shifty bastard who loved to lean on tradition and methodology. He hated the young and their propensity to want a shortcut rather than a three hour fucking ritual to get your mojo back.

 

That being said, Stiles' improvement was a mockery, because once he reached peak health he was going to be put on trial and hung. He understood why, of course. Executions were a morale boost in their bleak times. It was definitely better than what was done to werewolves in _his_ camp, not that Stiles had ever supported that filth. The idea of drugging and raping an animal was repugnant to Stiles in the extreme. That said he was... shocked at how human the 'animals' were. He'd never seen a werewolf without crude, low brows, sharp teeth, and vicious claws. These didn't even look like werewolves, and until the one who had been making moon eyes at him flashed alpha red Stiles had been half convinced he was being punked.

 

Now the reality had had long enough to sink in. Three full days, in fact. He was captured by a werewolf faction. And not only was he their captive but the alpha of alphas, Alpha Derek Hale himself, apparently wanted him to be his _whore._ Thankfully he had been soundly negotiated out of that option.

 

Stiles' execution date was only three days away and so far he'd been the subject of multiple visits. The leader of the entire Moon Tribe kept showing up and just... staring at him. Stiles had tried to sass him a few times, but he'd never risen to the bait. The guy wasn't exactly the brains of the operation, and neither was the dopey healer alpha who sat with Stiles for a few hours each day. They had played a few card games and he'd laughed about being so soundly beaten.

 

“Seriously, Scott, how have you lot _not_ lost this whole war?” Stiles queried as he shuffled the deck, “I swear the smartest guy here is that creepy ass Peter Hale dude.”

 

“He lost his mate in a bombing,” Scott replied, “Werewolves who lose their mates are never the same again. My mom says that werewolf education has gone to the wayside in favor of training the next generation of warriors, and that this is our dark times without art, music, medical, and scientific advancement. Uh... science is our word for magic.”

 

Stiles snorted, “We have science too.”

 

“My mom also says I just don't apply myself,” Scott admitted with a quick grin, “Which is true. I'm surrounded by advisers. I don't have to think and I don't want to.”

 

“You just wanna rip out throats of soft fleshy humans, huh?” Stiles muttered, eyes softening to sadness. This was a _general_. Not a friend. He had to remember that the dopey grin hid a killer.

 

“Oh, hell no,” Scott shook his head sharply, “I've never killed before and I never want to.”

 

“S-seriously?” Stiles asked, eyes jerking up in surprise.

 

The werewolf flashed yellow eyes at him and Stiles was too shocked to react in fear. Instead he gaped at him in shock.

 

“But... you look like an adult! Dude, you are too BUILT for a kid! You are going to have ALL the ladies some day!”

 

“I'm not a kid,” Scott frowned, “Why would you think that? And the only lady I want is my mate.”

 

“Because your eyes are yellow,” Stiles pointed out, “Only werewolf cubs have yellow eyes. Then they change to beta blue when they blood their first human.”

 

“That is _not_ how it works,” Scott gaped at him, “Yellow is the default for betas _or_ omegas _or_ kids. Red means alpha. Blue is... well, it's a warning that the werewolf has taken an innocent life so the pack knows to excommunicate him. It doesn't happen if you kill in self defense, but since war is conscripted and nobody really wants to be out there killing each other, I guess all the humans are innocent. So most of us have blue eyes now, which is really sad. Even some of my medics have killed rather than waste medical supplies on someone who was going to die anyway. It's just... easier that way, I guess. Mercy killings. So much for 'do no harm'.”

 

“Your medics take the Hippocratic oath, too?” Stiles asked softly.

 

“Sure,” McCall replied, taking a card from the pile, “We're not that different, you and I.”

 

 _More than you know_ , Stiles thought to himself, _Better to die a nobody than live a pawn._

 


	3. Chapter 3

It was torture looking and not touching. Stiles bathed naked in the starlight each night and Derek stood guard over him lest someone take it upon themselves to violate all that gorgeous flesh. He would spend the last hour of each day with him before he went starclad as well, but it seemed there was no love building between them. Stiles spat vitriol at him at first, as his captor, but eventually he just ignored him. It was better this way. The less Derek loved him the less he'd miss him. Or at least, the less he'd miss aspects of him. He was already going to miss his scent. His eyes. His laughter when McCall played games with him. His _body_ , fuck, Derek was already sick of fucking his hand and pretending it was the young man in the medical tent. How the hell was he going to live his _whole life_ this way?

 

While Stiles attempted to goad him Derek spent his time fantasizing. He could cede his power to Peter, snatch the human up, and run for the hills. Maybe Stiles' people would be merciful if Derek turned himself in. Or maybe by pretending Stiles escaped and captured Alpha Derek he'd be given prestige. Maybe _Derek_ could be Stiles' sex slave, made to kneel at this warlock's bedside and wait for him day after day to be ravaged all night long by his benevolent lord.

 

Well... fantasy was all well and good, but it was unlikely that Derek would live were he turned in. They'd attempt to barter him, something they'd tried with alphas in the past, only to be laughed at. Alphas were leaders, but they were replaceable. They wouldn't be sacrificed for the whole of the pack when merciless hunters were the on the demanding end. A captured alpha was a dead alpha.

 

So when they moved Stiles from medical tent to prison cell he was understandably devastated, but unable to show it. He had to put on a strong front. He had to pretend that Stiles was unimportant to him. He just wished he could get him _alone_. Scott seemed to be attached to the young man at the hip, and it was making him insane. Finally he managed it one morning by beating the lazy young healer to the prison enclosure. Derek took the keys from the guard stand and let himself into the iron prison. It had to be disheartening to be in such a place as iron was the witch's equivalent of mountain ash, but Stiles looked just as he always did. Calculating and sad.

 

“Where's Scott?” Stiles asked the moment Derek let himself in. A waft of peppery scented fear hit his nose and Derek snorted, shaking his head a bit.

 

“I wanted to talk to you alone.”

 

“You mean you _talk_? Impressive.”

 

Derek stepped towards him and the human stood up anxiously, starting to babble in an attempt at bravado.

 

“Of course, I'm honestly kinda glad you're here without my shadow. I wasn't looking forward to the idea of dying a virgin, so maybe this is for the best, amiright?”

 

Derek slid his hands through the human's hair at the back of his neck and dragged him forward and into his arms, holding him tightly.

 

“If...” Derek took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “If I were to turn myself in to your people. Would they kill me? Or would you be able to claim me as your mate? Keep me, even as a slave?”

 

“Um... that crown a little heavy or something?”

 

Derek stepped back and met those eyes that almost flashed like a werewolf's and felt his heart shattering. As an alpha would sacrifice themselves for their pack so too would Derek for Stiles.

 

“I just want to know how much time we'll have together once I sneak you out of here and back to your own people.”

 

Stiles' breath caught and hope shone in his eyes, “You really mean that?”

 

“You're my mate,” He spoke softly, “I can't let them kill you.”

 

“You're the _king_ of alphas,” Stiles argued, “Why can't you get them to let me go without, like, turning yourself in? Or better yet, end this damn war!”

 

“It doesn't work that way,” Derek replied sadly, “I'm not the king of the alphas, I'm just a figurehead.”

 

“It's true,” Scott's voice filled the cell, catching their attention and drawing an angry swear from Derek, “He has no more power than I or the other alphas do. We each have a role to play in the Moon Tribe. Mine is healer and my pack was once rife with scientists as well as doctors. Derek's is _supposed_ to be negotiation, a political figurehead who represents us all only in name. Kali is _supposed_ to be judge and jury as well as prison keeper, but her truth and justice died with her grandparents. Ennis' parents and his pack were teachers before his death; now our children only learn to fight. And Satomi's pack were full of artists and poets!”

 

“You're sounding poetic yourself,” Stiles narrowed his eyes, “What's going on here. Sourwolf here is suddenly talkative and you sound like a leftist poster.”

 

“Do you know why I beat you to the medical tent every day?” Scott asked Derek with a heavy sigh.

 

“So you can make yourself feel high and mighty with your constant pacifist tirades?” Derek snarked.

 

“Because I was charged, as the alpha of the doctors, with making sure that when you raped our _prisoner_ that it would be made known. Loudly. They told me that they wanted to shame and dethrone you, put Peter in your place, but I know full well that Kali just wants a chance to hold sex slaves as well as workers. So I made sure that you didn't have the chance by being there constantly, but make no mistake I wasn't the only one watching. If they have me watching you, than someone is watching me. After all, I'm not exactly well liked. So while I fully support the set-Stiles-free plan, it's not possible. You'll both be killed before you make it to the border.”

 

“Why do you even have all this time?” Stiles pulled out of Derek's grasp now that sex was clearly off the table, “We're at _war_ , but two war leaders are just hanging around? Oh, sorry, one war leader and one centrist who does _nothing to stop the war_ but cares, like, a _whole lot_.”

 

Derek scowled, “The hunters have pulled back. They seem to be waiting for something, but we don't know what.”

 

Stiles' eyes shifted away and Derek cocked his head curiously. Odd. He seemed... secretive suddenly.

 

“Do you know why they've pulled back?” Derek asked as he reached out to stroke his cheek gently.

 

“Pfft. Weird flex.”

 

“What?” He asked, “Is that a technique, or...”

 

“It means that your interrogation techniques are weird,” Stiles scoffed, “But I did wonder when you'd get around to it.”

 

Derek shook his head sadly, “Kali does the interrogating. There's a reason they wanted you healthy. You'll be tortured for hours, perhaps even days, before being hung.”

 

Stiles went pale and sat down sharply on the edge of the bed, “Well, that sure ruins the mood.”

 

Scott sighed, “And once Stiles is dead Derek will slowly go insane without his mate. He'll eventually be deposed and Peter Hale will take his place. Derek fought to defend our current land and was against expansion, but Peter is _not_. Satomi is tired of fighting. She doesn't want more death, but she'll condone it to get peace. With Derek gone there will be only _me_ opposing the kind of massive scale killing that Peter, Ennis, and Kali want... and I can guarantee you that I'll be dead within a week of Derek being deposed or killed. They won't need healers with what they plan to do.”

 

“What,” Stiles asked, voice sharp and intelligent as Derek had suspected he must be, “Do they intend to do?”

 

“Peter calls them WMD's,” Scott replied softly, “He plans on destroying the entire fort all at once. Three massive bombs that will go off all at once to destroy half this country. There won't be a war because there won't be anyone left to fight it. Just werewolves and corpses.”

 

“Goddesses,” Stiles whispered in horror.

 

“When did you grow brain cells?” Derek asked suspiciously, “Who's pulling your strings?”

 

Scott let out a slow breath, looking aside secretively, “My mate.”

 

“You... _you found your mate_?” Derek hissed, “How does no one know of this?”

 

“Because she has _remarkable_ restraint,” Scott replied, looking disgusted and frustrated.

 

“She won't sleep with you,” Derek's mouth twitched.

 

“So werewolves _do_ mate for life!” Stiles breathed, “Oh, that's so _awful._ My mom died when I was eleven. My dad remarrying was-”

 

Stiles stopped suddenly and went pale, making Derek put an arm around him in concern.

 

“What's wrong?”

 

“It doesn't have to be a secret,” Scott told Stiles, “In fact, it shouldn't. If we announce who you are they'll put off hanging you, and all their other plans. Possibly indefinitely. We could _negotiate_. Satomi will just as easily be swayed to negotiation as mass murder, in fact she'd prefer it. With Derek and I teamed up we'd outnumber Kali and Ennis at last!”

 

“I can't help but notice that you don't mention they'd put off the torture,” Stiles muttered.

 

“What does who he is have to do with anything?” Derek demanded to know.

 

“Come with me,” Scott glanced out the door of the prison cell towards the guard chamber, “I waited till now for a reason. My mate is nearby. She'll explain everything.”

 

Derek paused, arms still tight around Stiles' body, and then he nodded. If this was their chance to keep Stiles alive than he would take it. No matter what it meant for him.

 

“What about the wolf you said was watching _you_? _”_ Stiles asked.

 

“That's why we have Derek with us now,” Scott replied.

 


	4. Chapter 4

They stepped out the door and a werewolf with shining red eyes flew towards them, claws out, headed for Stiles' throat. Stiles didn't even have the chance to scream. Terror had gone through him and frozen him in place. Derek had sliced the other alpha open from throat to stomach, scooping out his guts, before the alpha had time to roar. He choked on his blood and dropped to his knees. Scott swore and leaned forward to try to stem the blood flow. Stiles swooned and the world turned momentarily white and then black. When he came to he was in Derek's arms, carried like a damsel, and frankly the shoulders were worth it.

 

“Did you have to go that hard?!” Scott hissed, “Take him to the mushroom shed on the edge of the forest. Now! I'll meet you there.”

 

Scott hurried to drag Ennis towards the medical tent while Derek carried Stiles towards the mushroom shed. Part of Stiles just wanted to _run_ , but after what Scott had said he knew he couldn't. If Derek went mad without him- which, _what_?- than the power grab would be complete. He'd be as good as dead when the bombs fell, and they were surrounded by werewolves. There was nowhere to retreat to anymore. The king of the hunters was trapped on the island on the lake and the camp on the shores. They had enough land to farm on the island, protected from war by the cannons and water on one side and the fort on the other, and they lived on the main land. The fort's gigantic walls kept out most attacks and they sent whoever they could to fight back. Their methods were good and their magic was strong, which was why they had survived as long as they had. Witches and hunters had united in marriage, and it had become a force not to be reckoned with, but it was still nothing in the face of the werewolves _raw power_. If they went method as well as power then Stiles' people were _fucked_.

 

They made it to the mushroom shed, which was more like a mushroom _house_ in size, and slipped quickly inside. It _stank_ , holy shit, how was a werewolf standing in this foulness?

 

“Oh god, this is worse than a pepper bomb!” Stiles covered his face with the medical gown he still wore.

 

“It's just shit,” Alpha Derek stated, sounding amused, “You humans surely do that, too.”

 

“We don't roll in it like dogs,” Stiles choked out.

 

“We only roll in it for _camouflage_ ,” Derek scoffed, “That's not the type of cologne I prefer.”

 

“Oh, no? You wear a little ode de grass, usually?”

 

“Try mint,” Derek stated.

 

Stiles opened his eyes when something tickled his hand and lifted his head out of his self-imposed sanctuary to find that Derek was stroking a leave along his hand. Stiles blinked at it in confusion and the scent of mint cleaned his palate at last. The alpha had a mint leaf he was pinching beneath Stiles' nose!

 

“They keep them in the flower box outside the door,” Derek chuckled, “I snatched some up as we entered.”

 

Stiles took some of the leaves and pinched them with his nails to rub beneath his nose, but Derek had reached out to do it for him first. Stiles stared up at the alpha as the man rubbed mint across his upper lip and around his nostrils. Caring for his mate. Stiles had read in books that werewolves could be intense, loved physical contact, and were loving towards their mates and cubs. He struggled to believe that this was the same werewolf that he saw regularly slaughtering his way through the battle field just a few miles from Stiles' home.

 

“Can you see me?” Stiles whispered.

 

“Of course,” Derek replied, “Can't you see?”

 

“Just a bit of your face lit by your eyes,” Stiles replied as Derek lifted the leaves clutched in Stiles' fingers towards his own face, “I'm gonna poke you in the nose or something.”

 

Derek snorted in amusement and the heat brushed over Stiles' hands. He rubbed the leaves he'd punctured over Derek's upper lip, nose, and probably his cheek as well. It was hard to say. Derek chuckled at him and pulled him ever closer. Stiles' breath caught in his throat. The man was _gorgeous_ and just because he couldn't see him now didn't mean that Stiles hadn't made a _lot_ of mental notes to enjoy after the medics that guarded him had left him to sleep. He'd spent a lot of time imagining that snarly face over him, pinning him down, taking him fast and hard.

 

They were kissing before Stiles rightly knew what was happening, Derek's stubble scraping his jaw teasingly as he whimpered at his _first kiss_. This powerful, gorgeous man wanted him and Stiles was shaking with lust in an instant.

 

Then the door opened and Derek snarled at the blinding white light from the outside. Scott hissed that it was just him and slipped inside, shutting the door behind him after pulling in someone else as well. The door shut and the light vanished once more.

 

“I created a helluva distraction by telling them I'd found Ennis like that on the side of the forest. They're searching for guerrillas now.”

 

“How the hell is my mate supposed to escape if you've got them searching the woods?!” Derek growled angrily.

 

“He isn't,” A woman's voice spoke up, making Stiles gasp in shock.

 

A lantern was lit in the musty building and Stiles stared at the familiar face of his step sister.

 

“Traitor!” Derek growled, claws flexing out as he stepped forward.

 

“Uh, hello?” Scott scoffed, “What do you think you became when you decided to sneak the _prince_ of the _witches_ out of prison?”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Derek recognized Princess Allison, daughter of King Christopher and step daughter of King Noah. She was a vicious hunter, professional archer, and a master alchemist. However, no one knew what the prince of King Noah of the witches looked like. He was a mystery, usually covered in a leather mask shaped like a fox while he threw down 'health bombs' to his people from the tall turrets of Fort Beacon atop Beacon Hill. He was a witch like his father and departed mother, and his spells were mainly nature based like most witches were. Derek had never known him to go down on the field or fight, but then again they were undoubtedly getting more desperate. The war had gone on for so long that even those who could improve on the health of plants to sustain their people had to be tired and frustrated. So Stiles had come down on the field and, not being a warrior, had been soundly trounced by the people around him. Mages and warlocks could hold their own on a battle field, but a witch or wizard? They belonged _behind_ the battle, healing or bringing down long-drawn out spells like electric arrows.

 

So now that they'd established that Allison was an ally, and probably Scott's secret mate, Derek took this new information into hand to deal with it.

 

“What the _hell_ were you doing on the battle field? You're a _witch_ , not a _fighting_ magic class! You never came down before today! You could have died!”

 

“Uh pfft, I had it handled!” Stiles stammered, blushing in the face of Derek's concern.

 

“It was my fault,” Allison spoke up.

 

“No, no, it wasn't,” Stiles argued.

 

“I was hurt on the field and Stiles knew that a health bomb wouldn't heal me. I was going to die if he didn't get down to me.”

 

“I had a plan, okay?” Stiles argued when Derek raised his eyebrows in judgment, “I dropped the mask and robes so that no one would know I was valuable, put on a medical helmet so they wouldn't use me as target practice, and came down to save her.”

 

Derek folded his arms, “And how did that go?”

 

“Really well, thanks for asking,” Stiles replied sarcastically, “I made it there, healed her wound, and we started high-tailing it back when this idiot came out of nowhere!”

 

Stiles gestured to Scott who looked sheepish.

 

“I smelled my mate's blood,” Scott stammered, “I love Allison. I couldn't just _leave her._ ”

 

“You were an _idiot_ ,” Stiles pointed at him accusatory.

 

“I wasn't really aware of what was going on,” Allison interjected softly, “When Scott knocked Stiles down and dragged me to the woods I thought it was still my brother. Until he kissed me, of course.”

 

“Ew. Dude,” Stiles smacked Scott on the chest, “That's my _sister_.”

 

“Enough,” Derek called a halt to their bickering, “What is this plan?”

 

Derek looked at Allison, because there was no way that Scott had a plan and if Stiles had had one he wouldn't be so surprised. Stiles perked up and grinned at them both, surprising Derek by guessing Allison's plan.

 

“You're going to pull a Dads!” Stiles grinned.

 

“Exactly,” Allison nodded.

 

“A what now?” Derek asked while Scott grinned and nodded eagerly.

 

“When the hunters were cornered by the werewolves on Fort Beacon they knew they didn't have a prayer,” Stiles explained eagerly, “They were surrounded and were going to run out of food and clean water in a matter of months. So they reached out to some long-ago allies- my family- and asked for a marriage to princess Kate. Prince Noah showed up to marry her, then prince of the witches with my grandpa still as king, with a bunch of mages and warlocks and me in tow. King Chris was hoping that the werewolves would be all like _“oh no, they've got magic now! This war can't be won!”_ but before negotiations could even fucking _start_ Kate went and dropped napalm on a werewolf settlement and killed a bunch of families in their beds because she was _so prejudiced_ that she'd rather keep fighting a war with werewolves than marry a witch.”

 

“Um... this might be a good time to tell you that one of those families was Derek's,” Scott muttered.

 

“Bad time, actually,” Allison stated.

 

“Where is she now,” Derek growled, eyes burning.

 

“Dead,” Stiles rubbed Derek's arm comfortingly, “So totally dead. King Chris had her hung for treason. Um... where was I?”

 

“My mom died,” Allison said softly.

 

“Shit. Right,” Stiles nodded and continued, “Then the queen died. Her death- sorry Allison- made room for King Christopher- dad one- to actually _form an alliance of his own as king.”_

 

“My dad married Prince Noah,” Allison stated, “Setting a precedent and allowing same sex marriage among both our people.”

 

“Oh, yeah, so you can see why I get how you don't want to start a bad one,” Stiles stated, patting Derek on the shoulder, “As hot as you are I'm glad you didn't agree to raping slaves.”

 

Derek twitched away, “So what are you proposing?”

 

“That I take Scott and you take Stiles,” Allison stated, “We both go to our respective families- or packs- and tell them that we have a royal prisoner... and so does our enemy. Instead of a trade or a negotiation we want an alliance. No more war. No more walls. No more bombs or napalm or death.”

 

Derek's eyes moved to Scott, “Coward. You didn't tell them.”

 

“Didn't tell me what?” Allison asked sharply.

 

“It's a great idea, why are you not on board?” Stiles asked in surprise, “You're the one who was weirdly into me at first sniff. Which is weird, by the way, because I totally pissed myself on the battle field.”

 

Derek shook his head, “A captured alpha is a dead alpha. We don't sacrifice our packs for an alpha. The power will just move on to an heir.”

 

“Except I don't have one,” Scott spoke softly, looking embarrassed.

 

“You... what?” Derek asked in horror.

 

“I haven't mated. I'm still a virgin. I don't have any biological family left. And Liam, my second, was killed in the last battle. There's nowhere for the power to _go_. The healer line ends with me. We've officially killed enough to

make passing on the power _difficult_. It might even go into a magical _human_ if one kills me at this point because I literally trust _no one_ anymore.”

 

Derek ran his hand down his face. That was sobering. Terrifying, really. He suddenly found himself wondering who his power would go to if he died. Cora, of course. Or Peter. Which was why he wasn't going with Stiles to the Fort, because he had an heir and a spare. But Kali? Ennis? Who did they trust besides each other?

 

“Back up plan,” Derek stated softly, “We kill Kali and Ennis if we have to.”

 

“What will that accomplish?” Stiles asked with a frown, “If the power just moves on?”

 

“It might not, and we could use a fresh start either way. Losing the healer line would be catastrophic but losing them? They aren't functioning as their purpose anymore anyway. End them.”

 

“Okay, good,” Scott grimaced, “We have a... still awful and death-filled back up plan. Great.”

 

“I still have questions,” Derek stated.

 

“Aww, look at him think, it's adorable!” Stiles crooned.

 

“What promise do we have that the war will _end_?” Derek asked, “If this _Kate_ was the one who wanted the war to continue, and your parents wanted peace, than why did they not ask for it?”

 

“They did,” Allison and Stiles both stated, tone one of confusion.

 

“No treatise came to _me_ ,” Derek stated, “And I'm the political head.”

 

“It never made it that far,” Scott spoke softly, “I'm a healer, Derek. I'm with those who are dying. I hear their last words. _So many_ told me that they came in peace. Asked where their white flags had gone, and they told me that they were taken. I didn't want to believe them, didn't want to believe that my _own people_ were keeping us at war. I thought they were just trying to surrender or defecting and got the end that all traitors get, because no way in hell did the _hunters_ want peace. I didn't piece it all together until Allison told me that they wanted the war to end on their end, too. Ennis' troops... probably yours as well... have been killing off their peace convoys.”

 

Derek breathed out slowly. His pack patrolled the most, so they had to be involved. He knew his pack was fracturing, but that they were answering to Ennis?

 

“Tell me he died,” Derek pleaded.

 

Scott shook his head and gave him a lanky grin, “Sorry, I'm just that good.”

 

Derek sighed, “And now we're back to how you two _can't escape_ with apparently murderous patrols in the fucking woods.”

 

“Oh,” Scott's face fell, “That's true.”

 

“No it isn't,” Allison scoffed, “I've been slipping in and out of this place for months. I can get us out. Come on, Scott. Stay close and stay quiet.”

 

Scott gave her a look of absolute adoration while Stiles made gagging sounds in obvious disgust. Allison handed Derek a thick scroll and headed for the back of the mushroom shed.

 

“Don't die,” Scott told him hurriedly, “Get Satomi on your side and get them to _listen_. You're going to have to talk, man.”

 

“Oh! I'm good at that!” Stiles chirped.

 

Allison knelt down and opened a trap door that led down into the depths of their mushroom farm. The ones that were used for medicine that only Scott would bother to go near... and for good reason, as the fertilizer was even more aromatic. Scott dropped down it after her. Derek cocked his head to listen to their travel and noted that they were moving past the underground cave's original shape. Underground passages. If this didn't work they'd have the easiest fucking time figuring out the sites to bomb the shit out of them. The intel Scott and Allison had combined would ruin them all if peace were not attained. Both parties were set to destroy each other in one final stroke.

 

“Okay,” Derek breathed, “I don't want them attacking you, so you have to let me tie your hands.”

 

“We should save the kinky stuff for when things get boring,” Stiles argued weakly, but didn't protest him pulling some rope from his satchel and tying Stiles' hands.

 

Derek paused once he had him secured and tilted Stiles' chin up to kiss him thoroughly once more. The feel of Stiles' lips was addictive and Derek wanted nothing more than to spend hours worshiping him from top to bottom... and from both the bottom and the top. He pulled away with a low growl, taking in his glazed eyes, and left the building to walk quickly towards the town hall.

 

“Uh... dude...” Stiles hissed.

 

“Don't call me dude.”

 

“Alpha?”

 

Derek turned to face him, because this was _important_.

 

“I am your _mate_ , Stiles,” Derek growled, “Or should I say Mieczyslaw?”

 

“Oh, please don't,” Stiles grimaced, “You're seriously mangling it. Stiles. It's my way of keeping my dad's last name going.”

 

“Fine, but I'll be introducing you formally so if you want it pronounced correctly be prepared to act and look like a _prince._ So when you speak to me you will call me _Derek_ or a term of endearment. When you speak _of_ me you will _proudly_ call me Alpha Derek. First name. Not last. First. I'm your mate, it's your _right_ to call me as other alphas do. As an equal.”

 

“That's hot,” Stiles stated, “But what I was going to say _schnookums_ , is that you have blood all over you and especially on your hand... claw? Where do they _go_ by the way, we've never collected your dead before so-”

 

Derek sighed and pulled him along in a hurry, “I'm going to claim defense of my mate and prove your importance. They'll get over it. Fast.”

 

“They're making a play for your throne, _honeywolf_. They're not going to just be like cool with this.”

 

“They will when they see _this.”_

 

Derek held up the scroll.

 

“You didn't even read it. That could be a letter that says 'ya punked' in twenty of the different languages that Allison speaks.”

 

Derek scowled anxiously and stopped to read the damn scroll after looking around to make sure they weren't about to be charged by guards. A few soldiers were headed his way so he skimmed it quickly after motioning to Stiles' bound hands.

 

“Get me iron, fools!” Derek snapped, “Before he spells something!”

 

One turned at his orders and hurried away, but he noticed that two were standing and staring at him while talking quietly among themselves. It was suspicious to say the least, especially with them commenting on injuries. Derek focused on the scroll. It started as a standard 'we have your captive' but quickly switched to 'let's form a marital alliance' and ended with 'will provide you with a marriage as well', and finalized it with a proposal that the werewolves cede the ground back to their original borders.

 

“They want their land back? We've _built_ on that land!”

 

“We need it to _eat and live_ ,” Stiles reminded him, “You've got us pinned down! Did you think you'd be _staying_ once peace was achieved?”

 

Derek glowered at him darkly, “I expected you all to be _dead_ and not requiring any fucking space.”

 

“Not feeling the love here, _sugarlips_.”

 

Derek breathed out slowly, counting to ten, and then gave him a solid glare, “This is a marital alliance. It means we merge. No fucking borders. Peace. Intermingling. We'll send a negotiation back stating that.”

 

“Of course you will,” Stiles shrugged, “Allison was betting on it.”

 

“I hate you humans _so much_ ,” Derek told him.

 

“Aww, the love already lost?” Stiles pouted.

 

Derek paused and leaned forward, gripping his hair to pull him close and whisper so the werewolves nearby wouldn't catch his words.

 

“ _I will always love you_.”

 

Stiles' expression was confused when Derek stepped back, and he quickly whispered, “That was super quiet and I caught nothing.”

 

Derek sighed. He'd have to show him in some other way. They were too vulnerable here. Derek tugged him along, accepting a pair of iron cuffs, and giving him an apologetic glance as he put them on him.

 

“Just until we treat, Prince Stiles,” Derek stated a bit louder than necessary. The soldiers flanking Stiles stepped back in alarm.

 

“If you insist, Alpha Derek,” Stiles stated coldly, following his lead.

 

Gods. With his chin up and that sharp nose ready to cut people as sharply as his wit the young man in a medic robe with moles dotting his face and hair sticking at odd ends looked like both royalty and sex personified. Derek wanted to drop to his knees and suck his dick right there in the fucking gardens.

 

“Later, _sugarclaws_ ,” Stiles winked, bringing Derek back to himself.

 

“How are you so annoying?” Derek growled, pulling him along sharply and glaring anyone in his presence right the hell out of his way.

 

Derek howled on the steps of the town hall, calling the other alphas to him, and stepped inside to place Stiles in a big swinging iron cage. He pulled the cuffs off and let him stand there, looking for all the world like an annoyed bird.

 

Derek took his place at the council stand and waited for the others to arrive. Kali was first, eyes flashing red as she stormed towards him with murder in her eyes. Derek held up a hand and shook his head.

 

“I had no choice, Kali.”

 

“You attacked my mate!”

 

“Who is still alive- for now,” Derek stated firmly, “He wouldn't have been harmed if he hadn't attacked _mine.”_

 

“I knew you were weak,” She growled, right as Satomi slipped into the room, “And now the others will all know that you are being manipulated by a _human_.”

 

“I,” Derek stated, holding up a scroll, “Am being _petitioned_ by a _prince.”_

 

Kali's eyes flashed again, but this time towards Stiles.

 

“So we have a valuable captive. Why did he not claim rights?”

 

“Because he was planning a second capture,” Derek stated, “Which was why I had to stop Ennis from killing him earlier today- although _why_ he decided to launch himself at a prisoner being led away by two alphas is beyond me. In the mean time, we have ourselves two problems.”

 

“Shouldn't we wait until Alpha Scott arrives?” Satomi asked, looking across at Kali suspiciously.

 

“He won't be coming,” Derek stated, “He's been captured.”

 

“If I may, Alphas,” Stiles stated, head held high and eyes flashing with power, “My name is Prince Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Argent, and your Ennis is a traitor to the Moon Tribe.”

 

“What lies does this false prince spew!” Kali shrieked.

 

“My people have been sending peaceful emissaries for years!” Stiles spoke over her so sharply that it silenced the others and sent blood pumping to Derek's cock, “And _someone_ has been murdering them before they could reach you! Unless you plan to tell me that white flags are meaningless to _all_ your kind?”

 

Derek nodded in Stiles' direction, “I suspect that Ennis has been subverting my pack as his and mine are the two that patrol the woods the most, Kali's being the guards close to base. The peace convoys never made it here, so it had to have been happening out there. Obviously I never gave them orders to kill humans or hunters with white flags, and Ennis went to great lengths to stop me from receiving this today.”

 

Derek held up the scroll, “It's an offer to treat, and several proposals, two of marriage. Me to Prince Stiles, and Scott to Princess Allison. I plan to negotiate the other propositions, but not without talking to you both... that is, of course, if Kali can still be trusted with her mate subverting our safety in this war?”

 

Kali's eyes were dark as she stepped forward, and Derek did not miss Satomi's claws emerging. She would kill without hesitation if necessary.

 

“Why is this necessary? We never have rescued captured alphas before.”

 

“Scott has no heir,” Derek stated, “We lose him, we lose his healers. Many will go omega. Both his teachings and his power will not have been passed down, and with how quickly our packs are degenerating I don't hold hope that the existing healers will continue to pass them on. We are only raising _warriors._ We are _doomed_ if we don't find peace because this war is _not sustainable._ This also holds as Alpha Scott's vote, in case any of you were wondering. He isn't just captured, he turned himself in because he found out that there are plots to bomb his mate's people. Yes, Kali, I know about Peter. So. One vote for peaceful negotiation from Scott. One from me. Satomi?”

 

“Peace.”

 

“That's majority. Kali, will you be heard?”

 

Kali lifted her chin subtly in anger, nostrils flaring, and glared Derek down, “I will read that first.”

 

“Please do,” Derek agreed, “I'm not thrilled with the last part and I'd like to hear your take on it.”

 

Derek was channeling his mother at this moment. Well, his mother and Laura. They all knew how to talk their way out of things and Derek was... well, he was a hopeful mechanic. Perhaps his prince would have some cars for him to work on someday. Their war had become so close knit that people didn't even _manufacture them_ anymore. They spent their time making weapons, not cars. Half the houses around him didn't even have electricity because it was a waste of resources. They were living like it was the dark ages, hell they _were_ in the dark ages, and Derek was done. Tired of fighting. Sick of hating. He looked at the prince standing proud in an iron cage and wanted nothing more than _peace_.

 

Kali looked at him and saw the end of her plots and schemes. She saw her war, her chance to murder nonstop, her goal of being able to openly rape fleeing, and tore the scroll in half.

 

Satomi tore her in half just as easily, and she did it before Kali could draw breath to howl for her pack to descend upon them. Kali's power flew up into the air, visible and powerful, and descended into Satomi. Per their arrangement, if an alpha took another alpha's life, they shared the power. Satomi held her hand out to Derek and he stepped down from his place to allow her to puncture the back of his neck. Power flowed into Derek, reminiscent of his sisters, but in a small dose. Satomi was keeping some for Scott.

 

“We have one chance to make this right,” Derek spoke softly to Satomi.

 

Satomi had tears in her eyes as she took Derek's hand, “When your parents died I saw the love leave your eyes. I was so sure that when that happened you would never allow peace to happen. I lost hope. Now I see that love has returned to your eyes. I have _missed you_ pup. What now?”

 

Derek looked away, not wanting to think of the past. Instead his eyes went to Stiles, who was doing his level best not to be sick by breathing slowly and carefully through his mouth. He wasn't looking at Ennis' body. This was a healer, not a soldier. He was in a camp full of people who would want him dead and a single werewolf who wanted to cherish him forever.

 

“We start negotiations,” Derek stated, “ _After_ we finish off Ennis.”

 

“He has people in the medical tent,” Satomi told him, “When Scott's pack fractured so many were bitter and angry and scared. They turned to Kali and Ennis.”

 

“And one turned from me,” Derek stated, “ _to Scott_.”

 

Derek was so used to being a soldier that he had no idea how to be an alpha. He'd been riding the war and letting the power he'd inherited fester inside of him. Now he closed his eyes and reached out and touched the threads of their pack bond and found them _so fragile_ that he hated himself for neglecting his pack this way. He was supposed to be an _alpha_. He was supposed to be a _Hale._ Now he sent apology and hope and love through his connections and hoped he was heard. He felt the bonds light up and took a shuddering breath as they were answered. Hope. _So_ much hope. So much _need_. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, his first self-turned betas rather than inherited, were the brightest and most intense. Isaac had left his pack for Scott's when Derek had proven himself to be too aggressive for the troubled young man, but their connection still existed. The medic in training was somewhere and Derek needed him. Now.

 

Isaac responded with a brilliant rainbow behind Derek's eyes and he sent him caution and hoped it reached him. Communicating through pack bonds was sketchy at best. Outside the hall there was chaos. Derek could hear people shouting in fear. An alpha had _died_ , and they hadn't felt the birth of the heir. They were scared. They needed guidance. Satomi stepped outside and howled to call them all to position, giving Derek time to step to Stiles' cage.

 

“I'm leaving you here because you're safe,” Derek told him.

 

“Uh, no. That's a bad idea.”

 

“They won't attack you in a cage-”

  
“They've attacked peaceful envoys!”

 

Derek paused, realizing he was right, and quickly freed him, “Be _silent_.”

 

The young man grimaced as if he wanted to argue but followed Derek along, scooping up a stick in the yard to hold as if it were a weapon. Derek rolled his eyes as he slipped through the panicking crowd with Derek's hand firmly on Stiles' arm as if he were guiding him. When the stick began to glow with blue runes he recalled that his mate was a powerful witch and he should perhaps trust him. A bit.

 

“Alpha Hale! Alpha Hale! What's happening!”

 

“Go to Satomi!” Derek ordered the few who stopped to ask him. Most were going to the alpha who had called, but seeing him had stalled them. The crowds were soon where they needed to be, in the front of the hall, and Derek was in the back where...

 

“Alpha Hale?” Isaac's soft voice spoke as he melted out of the woods.

 

“How much of your medical training has subverted your warrior training?” Derek asked immediately.

 

“Some,” He replied softly, “I like healing.”

 

“My pack,” Derek stated, “Was once a political pack. A pack of negotiators who only killed when it was _necessary_. If I tell you now that what I need is both political and necessary, will you trust me?”

 

Isaac hesitated a moment, then nodded solemnly, “Yes, alpha.”

 

“I need Alpha Ennis dead,” Derek spoke softly as he stepped closer to Isaac to avoid being overheard, “For peace.”

 

“I don't want to be an alpha,” Isaac replied, eyes wide with fear, “His pack are crazy. I'll be killed immediately.”

  
“Then disable him. Keep him weak.”

 

Isaac's eyes became firm, “He won't get out of that bed until you want him to.”

 

“Thank you, Isaac.”

 

Derek stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Isaac's forehead. The young man gave him a look of adoration and melted back into the shadows to hurry back to the medical tent.

 


	6. Chapter 6

It was terrifying to stand there, listening to the werewolves snarl and growl and howl and weep and whimper all around him. Stiles was no longer in his cage, but he almost wished he was. It was at least a barrier between himself and the claws around him. Instead Stiles stood beside Derek on a raise dais with Satomi two over on hers. The absences were so very marked in this way. Scott, Alpha Kali, and Alpha Ennis. Alpha Kali's body lay bloodied on the ground before them, with her pack forming a ring around her in horror. Some were weeping. Most were _angry_. Bloodthirsty. Stiles was working a spell beneath the dais that he was partially hidden beneath, but had no idea if or when he would need it. He could hold it for days if necessary, but he feared he wouldn't have the chance. The downside was that he had very little power to work with and could only draw on nature so much before his body couldn't handle the raw energy. He needed to do his ritual. Badly.

 

Derek and Satomi let out a snarl that silenced the room. The doors, big gigantic barn doors rather than dull double doors, were thrown open so that the massive community beyond could at least hear what was going on. Kali's pack had been called into the building and a cloth thrown over her corpse out of respect for the death of an alpha.

 

“Moon Tribe!” Satomi spoke, “Our packs have been at war for generations and it has weakened us! One weakness was Kali. She craved blood and lust more than health of her packmates! When she threatened our peace negotiations I ended her and took her power. Those of you who can swear to me remain! Alpha Derek will take those who will swear to him! Others depart! You are omega now!”

 

“What about Alpha Ennis?” One frightened voice called out. It was quickly echoed.

 

“Alpha Ennis is banished. Collect him from the medical tent if you wish to follow him,” Derek stated.

 

Silence. Shocked silence. A few began to shift away, then turned, and then were fleeing into the woods. Omega. Their cries became high pitched and frightened as they moved away, howling in terror and anxiety. In their wake more pushed into the doors, wanting to know where Alpha Scott was. Why Alpha Kali had been killed. _Why?!_

 

“ENOUGH!” Derek roared.

 

Silence. Finally. Stiles took a hesitant, frightened breath, and _hoped_.

 

“We are being asked to treat with Fort Beacon,” Derek spoke, taking Stiles' advice to stop calling them _hunters_ all the damn time, “Alpha Satomi, Alpha Scott, and I all agree that it is past time to put this war behind us. We do nothing but fight. Our children know nothing but war. _I've_ known nothing but war. I want _peace_. I want _cubs_. I want a _future_. They have made an offer of a bride and a groom to Alpha Scott and I. A marital union instead of sacrifice of pride. They want us, and we want them. They have food we don't have. Magic we could be benefiting from. We have land that they need and access to trade routes. We put down our weapons and they put down theirs.”

 

“They're hunters!” the cry went up around them.

 

“Not anymore!” Derek boomed.

 

“Hunters don't settle into a fort and fight a war. They don't marry the witches they once hunted like wolves. Hunters stalk and prey,” Satomi spoke up, “They have not been hunters for generations, and their current king and his children want _peace._ They have been warriors, and they are tired of war. We have not been wolves for generations, either. I don't want to make war anymore. I want to run it the woods again! I want to see yellow eyes glowing in the dark! I want to hunt deer instead of people! I want to howl and know the answers will be joyous!”

 

So said Satomi threw back her head and howled. Stiles refused to cover his ears, but he was sure they would _bleed_ if he didn't. Especially when Derek joined her howl. His past howls had sounded so different than this and even Stiles could feel the difference. This wasn't a call to submit or one to strike fear. This was joyous. Hopeful. Loving. Stiles felt it shiver through him and into his bones and gasped in surprise as his magical core _reacted_. He felt a throb of energy and it moved through his blood, and of _course_ it went straight to his cock. Stiles was standing in a room full of creatures that could smell his emotions and he had a fucking hard on. Derek's eyes flashed over to him and he slipped his arm around Stiles' waist.

 

“I accept Stiles as my mate,” Derek spoke into the growing silence, eyes glowing red and voice raspy with lust, “As a sign of our agreement to make peace. Alpha Scott is at the Fort right now treating with their leaders. I will be going there with Stiles after we have cemented our bond. There will be no going back from this. It will be halfway completed and there _will_ be peace. All that will remain will be to iron out the details and divide the land equally so that no one is hungry or cold again.”

 

Stiles couldn't discern the chatter of concerned questions that were shouted up at him, but the alphas obviously could because they began answering questions in quick succession. No, you won't lose your home. Yes, they will be living among us. We'll live among them, too. The walls are coming down. Ban on wolfsbane.

 

Stiles thought they were getting well ahead of themselves and leaned over to tell Derek so, but only caught his inflamed glance. It had the same effect. Derek raised a clawed hand and called an end to the meeting. Satomi told the crowd to go home and think of what kind of world they wanted to make for their children, and to go make some more. She gave Derek a pointed glance as she said this and Stiles felt a bit of confusion before he was led away with Derek's hand firm on his lower back.

 

Stiles was attracted to the alpha werewolf, there was no denying that, but he was in the midst of a culture he didn't understand. If they were going to 'make cubs' like Satomi wanted than there was either a _lot_ he didn't know about werewolves or he was about to have a close encounter with a woman _and_ a werewolf.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Derek's home was a tiny fortress designed by his sister Cora. She lived there as well, along with his closest packmates. Erica and Boyd were precious to him and had become his chosen family after Laura had died. He'd made the mistake of scaring away Isaac with his anger after Laura's death, but he had managed to keep those two and now he reached out to test their bonds. He wanted to see if they were still strong now that he knew that there were those in his pack who had betrayed him. They were practically golden. His closest were still loyal to him, which meant that Derek's home was still safe for him and his mate. He could fix or remove the problems later.

 

“Boyd, Erica, Cora stand guard,” Derek ordered as he stepped into his home.

 

“What's going on?” Cora asked, eyes wide, “People are saying you overthrew other alphas? Are we fleeing?”

 

“Not alone, I didn't,” Derek told her, “Alphas Scott and Satomi are with me. Kali is dead and Ennis is banished.”

 

“Holy shit, you're seriously doing this,” Cora gaped at him, “Is he even really your mate or is this some sort of power grab?”

 

Derek gave her the disgusted look that required, “Just keep us safe until we're both deflowered!”

 

“What?!” Stiles squeaked as Derek dragged him towards the bedroom.

 

Stiles began a rather valiant struggle that Derek chose to ignore until they were in his bedroom with the door shut. It was moderately soundproof; enough to allow privacy without blocking out the bombing warning sirens that would keep him alive. Derek released Stiles' arm and he flew backwards, tripped over his own damn feet, and sprawled to the ground in an ungainly heap. Derek frowned down at him as Stiles struggled to pick himself up.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Derek groused, not liking that he'd been freaking out about sex in front of his pack.

 

“Dude! I don't know you like that!” Stiles shrieked.

 

“Like what?” Derek asked.

 

Stiles, however, had gotten distracted and was staring around his room, “Is this... a hotel?”

 

“No, it's my quarters.”

 

“Your...” Stiles made air quotes, “Quarters?”

 

“My rooms.”

 

“Plural.”

 

“Yes!”

 

Stiles walked to the nearest door and opened it to reveal a bathroom. Nothing fancy, but he had his own shower while most people didn't even have one in their entire _house_ let alone their individual room. Next was a very small office that doubled as a walk-in closet with clothes hanging on one side and his desk against the other wall. Derek had very little in the way of clothing so it wasn't crowded. Stiles turned back to him and raised both eyebrows and gestured around himself.

 

“Where's your shit?”

 

Derek let his incredulous eyebrows do the talking for him, but Stiles only flailed and gestured more.

 

“Where. Is. Your. Stuff? Your personal stuff! Like, things that would make a topic for discussion so I could get to know you better since you seem determined to get my ass in bed!”

 

Derek gestured at both the room and Stiles, because he was having trouble making conversation. Stiles flailed again and then sat down on the only piece of furniture in the room besides the bed. Derek's leather easy chair squeaked beneath him. Stiles leaned back and turned on the light that was clipped to the side of the chair.

 

“This is it? Really?”

 

“I've spent my entire life since late adolescence on the battle field. If I'm here it's to eat, sleep, fuck, or do paperwork. Occasionally read,” Derek gestured to the chair.

 

“A-ha!” Stiles pointed at him in accusation, “So you don't actually need deflowering!”

 

Derek scoffed, “It doesn't count.”

 

“What doesn't count?”

 

“What I did before you.”

 

Stiles rubbed his hands together greedily, “Okay, dish. What was it? Just mutual hand jobs or something?”

 

Derek shrugged, “Sometimes, but mostly rutting. Do you want _details?_ I don't want to hear about yours. I don't think I could stomach it. Except... I have heard that humans not monogamous?”

 

“Dude. Seriously?” Stiles sighed and rubbed at his cheek, “Not always, but I guess I would be. It's just I've never had a chance to experiment and I'd like to do that before you and I were just like-”

 

Stiles made a few complicated hand gestures and grimaces that left Derek to assume he meant sex solely based on the content of their conversation.

 

“No,” Derek stated firmly.

 

“What? Why not?! You got to fuck around you... man slut!”

 

“No, because you-”

 

“I'm sorry,” Stiles put his hands up, “That was uncalled for. I respect people's body choices.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes dramatically, “No, because you waited too long. We're together now. I'd kill anyone who touched you!”

 

“Okay,” Stiles nodded along like a bobble doll, “Okay. That's hot but also terrifying. Okay. Um. Right. So, like... I'm your territory now? Is that it?”

 

“No, you're my _mate_ ,” Derek stated slowly, just in case a heretofore unnoticed head injury was acting up.

 

“Okay, but, like, let's pretend that I haven't known anything non-kill-related about werewolves in my lifetime- which I haven't- and you sort of... spell this out clearly.”

 

Derek sat down on the bed. Of course. Humans must do things differently. Stiles was scared and confused and Derek had to use his words. _Again_. He was damn near out of them after the night he'd had, but he was going to do this because his mate asked him to and genuinely smelled afraid.

 

“When two wolves scent each other- or a wolf and a human- and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is the scent they can not live without for the rest of their lives...”

 

“Oh my goddess, you're giving me the talk, that's so adorable,” Stiles stage whispered. When Derek paused to glare at him Stiles gestured for him to continue, “No! Go on! I might not actually know things pertaining to you.”

 

Derek glanced skyward in supplication for strength and then continued.

 

“An initial bond is formed, a pre-bond, just by scenting each other. It feels like you would die without the other,” Derek stated, quoting his father nearly directly and feeling a pang of pain at the thought. At least they had died together.

 

“Holy shit, like really?”

 

“Yes,” Derek replied, “It... it releases chemicals in the brain. Oxytocin, seratonin, norepinephrine...”

 

“So you caught my scent on the battle field and your brain made a love cocktail.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Wow. That's super awkward. Like, way more awkward than human courtship, which is already weird.”

 

Derek glared at him until he made a zipping motion across his lips. The alpha decided the truncated version was best at this point if they ever wanted to get anywhere besides staring at each other across the room.

 

“No relationships- casual or otherwise- count if they come before a mated couple find each other. A marriage- which is a legal, romantic, or political joining and different from a mating- is _immediately_ dissolved. The pair are considered virginal since the final step in uniting them is a physical melding of the bodies. There's usually a ceremony but we're rushed, so we'll go with a post display. Official mating can happen a lot of ways, but always results in ingestion of bodily fluids. For some that's as simple as saliva, for others... other fluids. If an alpha is involved their knot will engage in order to ensure offspring are created. I'm assuming your people don't have alphas since I've never heard of it, so you should know that female alphas grow an extra appendage and male ones gain a bulge on their dick to tie their partner to them. I've never seen a female alphas outside a drawing, but it's considered the height of sexy. Not my thing, but...”

 

Derek shrugged and Stiles leaned forward eagerly, “So wait, we've already swapped spit. We're done? Phew! Oh man, you really had me going there! I was all like 'whaaat, I don't even know you!' and you were all like 'for the good of the treaty we're gonna bone' and I was all like 'dude, I don't even like you like that!' and you were all-”

 

“You don't even _like me_?” Derek asked as the room went suddenly very, very cold. Cold and muffled.

 

“I mean... whoa, are you okay? You're white as a ghost, and I should know. I'm friends with a few... Dude! Derek!”

 

Stiles' hands on his face was sweet relief to the sudden horror that suffuses his body. He recognized it as a biological reaction to _mate rejection_. It happened sometimes between different species, and most often resulted in suicide by the afflicted werewolf.

 

“No, no, no, dude! Stop freaking out!” Stiles pleaded, and being the weirdly aware creature he was he _kissed_ Derek firmly.

 

Derek surfaced a bit from the rush of blood in his ears, and pulled the human against him. He'd fallen back on the bed, or been pushed, and his grip on Stiles meant he collapsed against his side. That weight on him was comforting, but not enough. Nothing but _having him_ would ever be enough. Stiles pushed out of the kiss and Derek let him go, frowning up at him and trying to find his damn dignity.

 

“Okay, so... I kind of have a runaway mouth,” Stiles stated, “And this is all really intense for me, but I like, don't dislike you. I don't really know you. You tend to _not talk_ for days at a time. That and your status and RBF are about all I know about you. So whatever you're freaking out about? Don't. We're... er... mated. I accept that. I'm just asking for more time before we do the deed because I'm nervous. Is that possible?”

 

Derek slowly sat up as Stiles retreated to the foot of the bed where he knelt with hands on his knees looking for all the world like a teenager. Derek felt a surge of pity for him. This had to be scary and he _was_ young. How young, though? They'd never even covered it.

 

“What's the age of consent for humans? And are you... above it?”

 

“Eighteen, and yeah. I'm legal.”

 

“It's sixteen here,” Derek replied, not really sure why he was replying.

 

“Lucky,” Stiles scoffed, “Not that anyone would touch me at sixteen. Or eighteen. Or twenty. Wait, why am I putting this off again? I've been _dying_ to get laid for years.”

 

“It's not the same when it's right in front of you happening,” Derek shrugged, “It's normal to be nervous.”

 

Stiles smiled and glanced away sweetly, “Thanks.”

 

“It's just...” Derek shifted on the bed to face him more comfortably, “We can't put it off, Stiles. We're at _war_. Declaring ourselves mates creates a bond, but you're _human_. Werewolves mate for life, but like you _just_ proved you can reject me. In order to be a united front we need to prove we're trying to reproduce.”

 

“Oh, wow, I feel like we skipped a step in that talk,” Stiles' eyes widened, “Um. I'm what humans call a _'male_ ' and we don't have... uh... extra appendages. Or organs. Yeah, organs is the right word. I can't... get pregnant.”

 

Derek frowned, “I'm sorry... I guess... an injury?”

 

“No, dude, I'm a dude.”

 

“Stop calling me dude,” Derek frowned.

 

“Wait, are you _not_ a dude?” Stiles stuttered, “Cause I distinctly saw boobs out there in the crowd, but maybe this is a gender thing? Or werewolves are made differently?”

 

“I don't know what a 'dude' is.”

 

“It's a slang term for 'male person'. Man. A guy.”

 

“Yes, I'm a man,” Derek frowned, “Why would you think I'm not?”

 

“Because you're talking about babies!” Stiles flailed. Derek blinked and stared blankly, waiting for more information so Stiles tried again, “Human men _can't get pregnant_.”

 

“As... often?” Derek's eyes narrowed in consideration of the concept, “We have trouble with two of the same sex as well. It's not impossible, though. You just have to-”

 

“At all. Ever,” Stiles slapped the back of one hand into the palm of another for emphasis.

 

Derek frowned, “What about their women?”

 

“Only if they have sex with the men.”

 

“How do your same sex couples have children?”

 

“They adopt. Turns out it's a great way to perpetuate the species, by having gay people adopt abandoned or orphaned kids. Very productive.”

 

Derek frowned, “We raise our cubs communally when they're orphaned and instinct would never let us abandon them. And... Well... _I_ can get pregnant.”

 

Stiles' pupils dilated and the scent of arousal flooded the room. Derek's eyelids fell to half mast and he leaned back on the bed and touched his abdomen gently. His mate had a pregnancy kink? Derek was here for that. He'd spent most of his life waiting for the sweet release of death while fighting for his and other's lives. He was happy to retire to barefoot and pregnant. Homemaker sounded like a damn good new occupation to Derek.

 

Stiles licked his lips and Derek's cock twitched in his pants, “You'd let me top you?”

 

“Do human men not let you?”

 

“Dude... not muscular beefcakes like you! I mean... alpha! Big, dominant dude! Letting me just... oh, wow!”

 

“I think you're confused about what topping is,” Derek chuckled, “It means you put your dick in me and I _fucking loving it_. I'm not going to call you alpha just because you're using your dick for what it's meant for.”

 

“So... that means I don't just get to do it for my first time?” Stiles asked, crawling over him and looking fit to rip his clothes off.

 

“Do it right and I'll demand it,” Derek growled.

 

Stiles reached down to give his own hardening cock a squeeze, “Guess you better keep up the sex ed lesson, then, huh? Maybe a lil prostate 101?”

 

Derek pulled Stiles down on top of him and initiated this kiss, sliding his tongue into the human's mouth and giving as good as he got while the horny young man's hips twitched eagerly. Derek let them drown in the kiss for a bit, the relief he felt after his almost-rejection was intoxicating. Then broke the kiss to shift them onto their sides with a slow roll, pulling Stiles' leg over his hip so he could grind against the young man.

 

“Rule #1 of prostate play,” Derek growled as he nipped down Stiles' chin, “You're not going to find it the first time.”

 

Stiles scoffed and sputtered in offense, “Just fucking watch me!”

 

Derek's hands moved to the clasps of their pants, but Stiles pulled back sharply.

 

“Nuh-uh, no way. I've grown up around blood and gore so I'm not _super_ squeamish-”

 

“You fainted earlier. It was embarrassing for us both.”

 

“-But you're washing your hands before you put them on my junk!”

 

Derek glanced down at his hands. They were indeed still stained from his previous attack, but Derek had grown so used to blood that it seemed unimportant in the face of ravaging- or being ravaged by- his mate. This felt like something that should have happened days ago. Still, he was quite filthy and Stiles had been imprisoned for a while. They could both use a shower, and the idea of Stiles' scent being reset to only hold his was quite gratifying and stilled his frenetic urge to _cover_ him in his scent _now._

 

“Okay,” Derek replied, shifting to the side of the bed and standing, “Come bathe me.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles nodded, “A slower acclimation of our bodies is acceptable to me.”

 

Derek snorted and led Stiles back to the bathroom he'd briefly glanced in and lit the candle on the wall sconce. That led to yet another stall tactic by one anxious human.

 

“Okay, help me out here. Where's the tech? I know you all aren't monsters by now, obviously, and I've cottoned on that you aren't 'animals capable of imitating human speech but not understanding it', but seriously? Obviously you built these houses, because if you _had_ taken over _our_ houses abandoned during retreat like I was taught in school there would be _electricity_. Yet here you have modern indoor plumbing. There's even caulk around the edges of the shower, which means use of plastics and polymers, so what is going on here? Why the two different technological eras in one building?”

 

“Electricity isn't a requirement for life,” Derek stated with a shrug as he began to undress, “You humans have superior bombs to ours, so every house is designed with the bare minimum of resources used because at any point they could be destroyed. Most houses around here don't even have more than one working toilet and sink for all the occupants. Showers are public facilities for the most part. I get perks as an alpha.”

 

“Nice perks,” Stiles replied, but he was staring at Derek when he said it.

 

Derek flexed his pecks and Stiles gasped, he thought a bit dramatically but it seemed genuine. He was honestly stunned by Derek's body to the point of being dumbfounded. Derek took his hand with a smirk and led him into the shower. It was small, but they weren't shying away now. Stiles grabbed for and fumbled the soap twice before getting his hands soaped up and rubbing them over Derek's body. He met the younger man's eyes and held them as he explored his chest and shoulders for ages before taking over and making the shower more productive. He got them both lathered up, rinsed off, out, and dried.

 

Stiles had gone mute now that he was driven to distraction with lust. From the moment Derek had stripped Stiles had fallen silent as his cock had filled and stayed achingly hard. Now he was breathing heavily, hands moving over Derek's shoulders on repeat as he tried to figure out what to do next. Derek finally gave up and once more took the lead, deciding that if they took it as slowly as Stiles wanted to they'd _never_ get to bond.

 

Derek picked Stiles up bridal style, deciding it was poetically accurate, and dropped him down on the bed with a bounce. Stiles yelped and then went still and anxious, but when Derek climbed onto the bed it was to straddle his hips rather than pin him down. That put him instantly at ease and Stiles ended up relaxing a bit and staring up at Derek in awe. Derek smirked as he traced Stiles' lips with his thumb before leaning down to capture them in a deep kiss. Stiles moaned against his lips and ran his hands over Derek's hips and moved them _slowly_ to his ass. Derek couldn't help it. He snorted, then huffed, and then leaned back to laugh outright at him. Outside he heard a bang and a shout of surprise followed by Erica shrieking ' _Did Derek just laugh?_ '.

 

“What?!” Stiles scoffed, shoving at him irritably but also smiling a bit, “What did I do?”

 

“You're so afraid of touching my ass!” Derek chortled, “What kind of pathetic men taught you that bottoming was only for thin, submissive men? Have they never been fingered?”

 

“I dunno,” Stiles chuckled, “Probably not.”

 

“Sounds like they need to be,” Derek chortled, then grabbed Stiles' hands to pull them to his ass and press them down. He continued his instructions from before, “Here. _This_ is my ass. Grab it like you want it.”

 

“I do want it,” Stiles panted, “Oh my gosh, I want this _so bad_.”

 

Stiles gripped Derek's ass tightly with both hands and he hissed and arched his back in excitement, his cock bobbing in anticipation of _more._ Stiles wheezed an expletive and his hip jerked up in longing. Derek shifted one hand further back and Stiles' long fingers touched his pucker at last. Derek groaned and pushed back and Stiles eagerly began to stroke up and down in order to get that reaction from him once more. Derek arched and rolled his hips, rubbing his balls across Stiles' groin and stimulating them both.

 

“Oh my Baphomet, I need to fuck you. Now,” Stiles whispered, pupils blown.

 

Derek leaned forward to pick up the lubricant from the bedside table where it was in easy reach in case of masturbation or a chance to fuck someone arose. He poured some out on his hand, met Stiles' eyes, and slicked up his mate's cock. Stiles' eyes fluttered shut and he bit his bottom lip, face going rigid in need to hold himself in check.

 

Derek got Stiles' fingers sloppy as well and guided them to his ass, prompting him to slide one inside as the human stared down at Derek's abdomen in wonder. Derek rocked back on his heels since Stiles was moving too slow and had to growl at him to get him to add a second finger.

 

“I don't want to hurt you,” Stiles muttered.

 

“You'd have to _really try,”_ Derek reminded him irritably, “Come on already!”

 

Stiles slid a third finger in and grinned broadly, “My dick is going in there!”

 

“You're _ridiculous!_ ” Derek laughed lightly.

 

“Your ridiculous husband,” Stiles breathed, “Who you're going to make lasting peace and _babies_ with.”

 

“Mm, your cubs in my belly,” Derek growled as Stiles slid his fingers free and started trying to figure out how to align things, “Filling me up. Making me gravid.”

 

Derek shifted into the right position, reached back to hold Stiles' length upright, and slid down on it with a long breath out and his head thrown back in bliss. Once he was fully seated he opened his eyes to find Stiles breathing slowly through clenched teeth, his blunt human fingernails doing their level best to dig into Derek's hips.

 

“You still with me?” Derek breathed, shifting a bit to get a feel for the hard rod in his ass.

 

“Get off.”

 

Derek frowned and began to lift up but Stiles practically shrieked, “No! Not that get off, you get off! Jerk off! Get... come already! I can't! You're so! Hot! Fuck! I'm gonna blow my load _right fucking now!”_

 

Derek grinned a bit and took himself in hand, determined to get his scent all over Stiles. The feeling of his mate inside his body and the idea of their consummation was enough to bring him close to the edge as it was. Derek leaned back so Stiles' cock rested on his prostate and began to dirty grind, knowing it would barely stimulate Stiles at all.

 

“Oh god, yes,” Stiles moaned, rolling his hips to keep it going, “I can do this. I can... oh gods, I can't.”

 

Stiles' back arched, his eyes clenched shut, and his mouth fell open in bliss as he pulsed inside of Derek's body. Derek caught the scent of seed a few seconds later and his knot began to swell. Derek groaned out loud, sitting back fully so he could grip his knot with one hand and stroke his length with the other. Without a body clenched around his member he had to put in a bit more effort and he would have preferred someone elses hand to his own. White pearls decorated Stiles' torso and his mate made a strangled noise beneath him. Derek reached for his hand to pull it to his cock, wrapping Stiles' long digits around him to continue stroking him through the next wave.

 

“Come on,” Derek growled, eyes flashing, “Don't you know how alphas work? You have to _squeeze the knot_.”

 

“You really do have a knot!” Stiles squeaked.

 

“STILES!” Derek barked, making him jump.

 

“OKAY!” He shouted right back, then started _finally_ pleasuring Derek in return.

 

Derek's head fell back and he moaned in relief as a far more satisfying release had his cock pulsing out more and more. The fluids spilled out over Stiles' fingers and dripped down his wrist while Derek panted in relief.

 

“Fuck, yes!” Derek gasped, “That's it! Mm, _harder_!”

 

“Really?” Stiles asked, sounding uncertain but intrigued.

 

Stiles started massaging his knot, squeezing and releasing the sensitive gland at the base of Derek's cock. It felt _so much better,_ more like a body clenching around him, and so fast, that the alpha let out a surprised shout and jerked forward. Stiles' cock was still half hard so it pressed against his prostate briefly, lending length to his shot as he came hard enough to hit Stiles' face this time.

 

“Oh my god, yes!” Stiles gasped, licking his lips as Derek leaned forward with trembling hands to collect a plug from the bedside drawer, “Facials are _awesome_.”

 

Derek slid the plug into his body to hold Stiles' seed in place since his mate wasn't endowed with a knot. Derek had worn protection with past mates, but he often kept a plug to stimulate a knot for himself when jerking off since he enjoyed the fullness. He'd happily use it to encourage cubs to grow for his mate by keeping his seed inside for as long as possible. Derek collapsed sideways and leaned forward to lick his mess off of Stiles' face while he laughed.

 

“So that was sex, huh?” Stiles chuckled, wiping at his face and then groaning when he spread more come onto his eyebrows, “It's so _messy!”_

 

Derek laughed pulled him close to hold him as the resulting orgasms made him tired. For a few minutes they dozed, simulating the knot that Derek wanted so much. After twenty minutes Derek's own knot had relaxed and he pushed himself up with a pout. He wanted to stay in their little nest, but duty called.

 

Derek led his mate to the bathroom again to wash up. This time it was more utilitarian and they exited the shower quickly. Stiles frowned at Derek's bottom and he reached back to tap the plug.

 

“Don't worry, I was prepared. Your seed isn't going anywhere.”

 

“What is that?”

 

“An artificial knot,” Derek told him.

 

“Yeah... about that knot... um... I'm not sure that would... work...”

 

“Work?” Derek yawned, and headed for the door to show Stiles back outside.

 

“I mean,” Stiles stammered as they opened the door, “I don't think I can take that up my... you know.”

 

Derek snorted, “If you can't you can't, but I said the same thing the first time and I was _very_ wrong. We'll take it slow. Trust me, it will fit. Maybe the first few times you just take the tip.”

 

“Yeah?” Stiles looked hopeful.

 

Derek tapped the plug again, “Trust me. It's worth it to feel full and bred. You'll love it.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles nodded, “You trusted me, so I'll trust you.”

 

“Good plan,” Derek replied, opening the front door and stepping outside.

 

“Wait, holy shit, we're naked and there are-”

 

The crowd outside erupted in cheers, shouting and howling as Derek turned and bent forward to show off his plugged hole to the packs celebrating their mating outside their door. Stiles' scent would be wafting from it for the discerning nose. Stiles looked _horrified_ and more than a bit amused. Sure enough, once they stepped back inside the human began to laugh and couldn't seem to stop. He was red in the face and gasping in a few minutes, and Derek's pack looked on in alarm. Derek himself was a bit shocked at all that hysteria and the short breaths. He tossed the sprite over his shoulder and headed upstairs once more while he smacked at Derek's ass and laughed himself into a hiccuping mess.

 

Derek dropped him down on the bed and Stiles rolled over, spread his cheeks, and waved his lily white ass at Derek. Derek gave it a gentle- for him- smack and Stiles yelped, rolled over, and started catching his breath.

 

“Oh my gosh, you just _mooned them_ _all._ Like, I get that culturally that probably wasn't the same thing to you as to me, but holy shit. That was hilarious.”

 

“What exactly was funny about me showing them you had successfully mounted me by letting them smell your seed inside my body?” Derek huffed, sitting down and fighting down a smile at his antics.

 

“I'm sorry,” Stiles stifled his laughter and sat up fully, “It's just in my culture showing someone your bottom is super rude and scandalous. It can actually get you arrested.”

 

Derek smirked, “Do you think Scott knows that?”

 

Stiles' face went through a series of emotions ranging from shocked, to horrified, to hopeful, and settled on hysterical again. Stiles dissolved into laughter and this time Derek joined him.

 


	8. Chapter 8

This chapter is going to be all Scott and Allison. You can skip it without losing the plot, and you won't miss out on seeing the human side of things as I'll revisit that with Stiles and Derek as well. I don't usually write het sex, so I'm hoping it's decent. No extra warnings apply.

 

 

 

Scott had snuck into the human's territory more than once in order to visit with Allison, but this was the first time he'd entered the tower on the other side of the lake. Most often they met on the borders and she would sneak him into a guard tower on the edge of the fort rather than bringing him into it. Since all of the people within lived in _very_ tight quarters, there was no sneaking around within the fort. Once the walls were breached everyone was very nearly shoulder to shoulder. As such, Scott was in awe as he entered the gigantic stone and wood buildings. Their alchemists and sparks had outdone themselves; everywhere he looked were towering buildings that reached to the sky. He'd seen them from a distance, but it was deceptive just how big they truly were. Many had small balconies that people were standing out on, likely trying to get a breath of fresh air off the breeze as the entire area _stank_ of unwashed human.

 

Scott knew that they had been blocked in for some time with mountains to the north-west, the great lake to the south, and the war to the east, but he hadn't realized how drastically overcrowded they were. The mountains were impassible for most of the year, so when they could get through it was to get the sick and weak out and the supplies in, assuming the Stilinski's could accept any more refugees. The island in the middle of the lake was used to provide them with food, the witches making it flourish more than was actually possible on such a wet and small area. The island was out of the way of the direct battle, and the only lands not built on or conquered by the werewolves. The lake and it's island kept Fort Beacon from becoming a food dessert and the werewolf's advance from becoming a full siege during the winter months when the pass was frozen over.

 

“Is... is there not enough water in the lake to bathe?” Scott whispered as Allison led him through the fort and the people around stared down at them from their towering homes and the crowded streets.

 

“The people are exhausted,” Allison replied sadly, “They wage war, work, and sleep. No time for play or love or hope or happiness. The young who survive the battles have stopped making children in the last ten years. Our soldiers are getting older and new soldiers aren't replacing them.”

 

“They might make more children if they _bathed_.”

 

Allison frowned, “It doesn't smell that much to us. They're having relations, they're just not making children. Most try to plan things or use various forms of safe lancing.”

 

“What's safe lancing?” Scott asked, watching as the lights flickered above and turned on as night fell, “Is there electric _in the streets?”_

 

“The waterfalls provide us with enough electricity for the fort,” Allison explained the second first, “And safe lancing means in the... in the bum or mouth.”

 

“Oh,” Scott frowned, “But that wouldn't work for the men.”

 

Allison rolled her eyes, “Men are so _demanding_ when it comes to sex. Honestly, you can use your hand if you're going to fuss about which hole I let you use.”

 

“I won't!” Scott insisted, “But don't we have to prove we're fertile?”

 

“Not thanks to my dads,” Allison replied.

 

“But they already had two children,” Scott pointed out, “We'll need to prove that one of us will mount the other so that we can give your father an heir and a spare. Assuming he lets us mate at all since I'm a werewolf.”

 

“Yes, assuming he will,” Allison worried her bottom lip and waved away the soldiers at the doors to the throne room, “Summon my fathers!”

 

“It can be me,” Scott told her, “I wouldn't mind carrying your cubs.”

 

Allison laughed lightly, “You're so _funny!”_

 

Scott smiled softly, “I wouldn't mind seeing you with mine, either.”

 

Allison's eyes softened, “I've always known I would have children someday since I was born a princess, but I never expected to _want it_. I've always thought of myself as a warrior princess. The one who would have breast armor, not a babe on my breast.”

 

“I'm no warrior,” Scott shrugged.

 

“I don't need a warrior husband,” Allison put both hands on his shoulders and smiled into his eyes, “I need a healer to heal my country.”

 

“I can do both,” Scott insisted.

 

“I know,” She replied, “And don't worry. I'm excited for children now. And peace. I've had enough war and I'm ready to stop being a warrior.”

 

“Allison!” A deep voice called out.

 

Allison turned to face her fathers as they hurried towards her. Scott took in the throne room for the first time, amazed at all the bright white and sharp bronze accents. It looked surgical to Scott, who wandered towards a picture on the wall of the royal family that took up nearly two stories. It had obviously been taken years ago when they'd first married and had thought peace was going to happen soon since they had spent the resources on such a huge mural. Stiles looked so young, his head shaved and his eyes bright and shining with innocence. Scott had never seen Allison smile like that with him; she usually looked sad when she smiled, as if her world were too dark for true happiness. Scott wanted her to smile like that again, and the thought had tears starting up in his eyes.

 

Those tears were just falling when Allison finished explaining her plan to her fathers and called him to introduce him to them. Scott turned to the two men who Allison looked up to most with a trembling bottom lip and big, wide puppy dog eyes.

 

“May I present to you, Alpha Scott McCall of the Moon Tribe. Alpha Scott, these are my fathers, Kings Chris and Noah Argent.”

 

“Did you _abduct_ him?” The clean-shaven one asked in harsh tones.

 

“No!” Allison gasped, “Scott, what's wrong?”

 

Scott gestured to the picture, “I don't make you smile like that. Do I not make you happy?”

 

“Oh,” Allison gave the picture a sad glance, “I wasn't smiling when they painted it. I was crying. My mother had just died, my aunt been executed, and my father re-married to a man he barely knew in a hurry. They used an old picture of me smiling as a child that my father had with him to paint my face. I haven't smiled like that since my mother died and... I don't know I ever will again. That isn't your fault, Scott, and you do make me happy.”

 

Allison stepped forward to kiss his tears away, stroking his crooked jaw gently while Scott smiled into her eyes.

 

He told her, “I know the loss won't ever go away, but you can heal, Allison. It's just that the hurting hasn't stopped _happening._ We need this war to end.”

 

Scott looked up at the picture again, hope and longing in his eyes, and the kings were both struck silent.

 

“Chris,” King Noah spoke softly, “You said yourself they chose mates _for life_.”

 

“He could still be _pretending,”_ King Chris stroked his salt and pepper beard.

 

“Does that look fake to you?”

 

“You're the man who fancies himself a detective,” King Chris grumbled, taking his husband's hand gently.

 

They loved each other, Scott could tell. It might have been a rushed marriage to preserve their countries' alliances, but it had become something more. Even if humans didn't have mates _,_ they very obviously had _love_.

 

“We have little choice,” Noah replied, “But if you want a comforting word, I do think he's being honest.”

 

“Because of a few alligator tears?” Chris scoffed.

 

“Because his nose twitches when he turns towards her, his eyes constantly move in the direction she's in even when she isn't speaking and he isn't looking at her, and because he handles her hand like it's glass,” Noah replied.

 

“You would trust Stiles to one of them?” Chris asked harshly, although he sounded swayed.

 

“I have to,” Noah replied, “We have a duty, Chris. One beyond our own hopes and dreams for our children. I just hope that Stiles wasn't pulled into this blindly. He's so innocent. At least Allison has known war enough to chase away that naivete.”

 

“No one in this fort has been kept from it completely, Noah,” Chris replied sadly, “He may have been far from the battles, but he still saw them. He still saw the wounded limp back in. He still lost friends. He isn't the fool you worry he is.”

 

“He seemed smart to me,” Scott chirped, “I really liked him! And now we're gonna be bros!”

 

Allison giggled at Scott's bright eyed enthusiasm and Noah chortled.

 

“No one, huh?”

 

Scott was led away to be measured for human clothes and Allison gave him a longing glance as she retired to her rooms. She would wear her mother's wedding dress since a fast wedding wouldn't allow for a future queen's dress to be made and it was on hand. Their seamstress was going to let it out or pin it as needed.

 

A few hours later Scott was dressed in uncomfortably restrictive clothes and led down to a huge building with rows of seats and obscene amounts of gold and stained glass. He stood on a platform feeling awkward while he waited for something to happen. Noah waited with him, but he didn't seem open to chatter so Scott stayed silent and nervous.

 

The room slowly filled with people wearing bejeweled clothes and more layers than one should in hot weather. Scott worried they'd faint. Then loud, deep, music started up that made him jump in surprise. It sounded like howling though and he rather liked it so he grinned eagerly at King Noah who looked amused by his excitement.

 

All noise, gold, and gems vanished a moment later when the huge, dark wood doors opened to reveal Allison Argent. Scott could barely breathe at the sight of her. A long dress, white beneath a silver brocade that almost resembled chain mail, paled in comparison to her hair being let down beneath a long lace train for the first time in Scott's sight. Allison's lips were stained red and her eyes were bright with happy tears.

 

Scott choked on his sobs as she approached and made a move to go to her that was aborted by King Noah's grip on his arm. Allison beamed at him, but her mother's dress had to be giving her some remorse. That smile wasn't truly happy. Not yet. Allison was led by her father, which Scott nearly missed since his eyes were on her. He took her hands after the king kissed her cheek and passed her to him.

 

“You look-” He started, but she shushed him and the people down below chortled. Scott glanced at them at last and noticed that they all gave him various looks of disgust and disdain. Scott swallowed anxiously and focused on Allison so that she could give him any cues he might need.

 

“Dearly beloved,” King Noah spoke, “Today we celebrate the marriage of Warrior Princess Allison Argent of Beacon Fort to Alpha Scott McCall of the Moon Tribe.”

 

A few gasps went up at his title but Scott refused to respond. Allison was his goal. If this plan failed he would get at most one night with his mate before the people demanded his hide. He wasn't going to take his eyes off of her until peace was established or he died; whichever came first.

 

After nearly an hour of talking about their gods, marriage, the kingdom, history, Allison's mother, Allison's country, the war- in obviously careful terms- and finally the nobility of alpha werewolves, Scott was ready to simply carry her out. Then came a sudden pause and Scott realized he hadn't been paying enough attention. Everyone was waiting for him to do something.

 

“Vows,” Allison whispered, “Tell them what you promise me in marriage.”

 

“Peace! I want you to have peace. And... and laughter. Happiness, I mean. Forever. Oh, and cubs! So many cubs, of course, I'd make sure we had cubs. Either of us. Maybe one each,” Allison looked confused so Scott wrapped it up hurriedly, “I promise you love and good health for as long as we have.”

 

Allison winced and plastered on a very fake, bureaucratic smile. Scott knew he'd said something wrong but he didn't know what. He mouthed an apology and her smile turned fond.

 

“Alpha Scott McCall, I give you the promise of peace in our future, _long lives_ filled with heirs, and my family name as you will be my support when I ascend the throne someday in the _very_ distant future,” Allison spoke clearly and confidently.

 

Scott nodded happily, eager to take her name, and they were instructed to kiss at last. This they had done already so Scott pushed her veil back and pulled her into his arms for a deep, sensual kiss. Someone cleared their throat in indication of some expected action, so Scott moved to undo his pants, since apparently they expected him to mate her _in front of them_. Well, that would certainly assure the heirs were both of theirs!

 

A gasp went up from the crowd, Allison pulled back in alarm, and King Noah hit him over the head with a black book that had a lowercase t on the cover. He looked disgusted.

 

“Unless you want to get _shot where you stand_ , I suggest you keep your pants on until you get to the bridal chamber!” King Noah snapped.

 

“Oh,” Scott quickly tied them again, “Sorry. I thought... I thought the kiss meant to mate.”

 

Allison's face was bright red with embarrassment and now Scott's was as well. He felt like a fool and King Chris was fingering the weapon at his hip in obvious longing. He looked murderous and Scott wanted to flee.

 

Finally they were led to a great hall for a celebratory dinner and Scott was left in shock. One of the reasons the werewolves were winning the war was their single mindedness, and it showed in their loss of culture and the simple joys of life. The trapped humans had reverted to their culture to keep them sane, and it showed in their décor and the _food_. The food was delicious. So many herbs were used to give it flavors that Scott had never tasted before, and since the food had to be preserved during the winter when trade wasn't possible it was heavy in salts and sugars depending on the dish. He devoured his food, humming happily over the delicious substances. It had been ages since he'd had salt! Allison drank heavily but Scott avoided it since he couldn't actually get drunk so the bitter drinks were unappealing to him.

 

After the food they were told to start the dances and Scott was by this point most frustrated. He wanted to be _alone_ with his mate! Not on display! He didn't even know how to dance and it showed even though Allison led. Finally the rest of the dancers joined in and he whispered to her that he wanted to leave. Allison looked disappointed but nodded nonetheless and led him towards her fathers.

 

“We're going to retire early,” She told them, causing them both to look surprised and concerned.

 

“Aren't you feeling well?” Chris asked just as Scott sputtered in shock.

 

“ _Early_? There's meant to be _more_? How will I ever give you cubs if we're never _alone_ and they won't let me mount you in front of them?!”

 

King Chris' hand went to his gun again but King Noah put a hand on his chest to calm him, “Chris, come on now. They're young. Let them be.”

 

“He's disrespecting my little girl!”

 

“Mount is probably just a... common word... for them,” King Noah tried.

 

“I would never disrespect her!” Scott insisted frantically, knowing it was still early enough to stop their mating if the kings truly wanted to, “She can mount me whenever she wants, but she said she didn't want to!”

 

Both king's eyebrows went up and they shook their heads in confusion, but it was King Noah who spoke up, “Maybe let Allison do the talking in political settings.”

 

“Dads,” Allison scolded, “It's a whole different culture. Take it easy on him.”

 

Allison pulled Scott away from the two men while he blushed and hung his head in shame once again. When they were down a few hallways Scott finally dared to speak again.

 

“What do I keep doing wrong? None of this makes sense!”

 

“It's a ceremony, Scott,” Allison told him gently, “We put a lot of weight on flashiness and hobnobbing. Stiles is better at it than me, to be honest. I normally can't stand these sorts of things, but it was our wedding so it was special to me.”

 

“Do you... want to go back?” Scott asked miserably.

 

Allison paused in her quick escape through hallways to smile at Scott lovingly, “No. I just want you to be comfortable.”

 

Scott smiled and the doors beside them shut themselves. He jumped away from Allison's kiss to growl at the threat. They were cornered in a tiny room and it was shaking!

 

“Scott! Scott! It's just an elevator! It's taking us upstairs!”

 

“A... what?” Scott asked.

 

“It's a box pulled by ropes up to the second floor where my rooms are.”

 

The doors opened on a different floor, this one smelling very different than the others. He was fairly certain he could sniff his way to her rooms. He caught Stiles' scent as they passed his room and smiled at it fondly. He liked Stiles. They were already the best of friends.

 

Finally they made it to Allison's rooms and entered to find more opulence and the biggest bed he'd ever seen. Everything was colorful and soft, but nothing could hold a candle to the woman in his arms. Allison smiled up at Scott as he held her gently before leaning in for a small kiss.

 

“Can I take off my clothes now?” Scott whined.

 

Allison laughed, “You'd better! You're not the only one tired of waiting!”

 

Easier said than done. The dress needed both their hands to undo, and they nearly had to go fetch the seamstress to get her out of all the pins they'd used to keep her in the gigantic garment! Allison ended up with more than a few scratches from them, but Scott would never dream of shredding her mother's dress with his claws to free her so it was a long process. Then she helped him out of his suit, which thankfully took less time.

 

Naked at last, they were too busy laughing over their wardrobe malfunctions to do more than lean on each other at first. When they both slowly sobered there was a moment where they stepped back and studied each other. Allison was gorgeous. Her body was beyond perfect, breasts pert and skin flawless. Her hair slid down her shoulders to tease her nipples and steal Scott's breath away. She was giving his member an anxious look, biting her bottom lip, but when Scott leaned in it was to bury his nose in her hair and breathe in rather than kiss her worries away. He would _show_ her that she was safe with his body.

 

Allison didn't shy away from him as he'd expected. She let him lead her to the bed and spread her legs to lie on her back for him with trust in her eyes. When she whispered that her people believed that the 'missionary' position- whatever that meant- ensured fertility Scott's desire amped up and they went from slow and hesitant to eager and hungry. His own people believed otherwise, but the shy excitement in her eyes meant he was sure they could try it another way if the first time failed.

  
Scott's eyes flashed red with lust and he dove in for a hungry kiss. He moved down her body, mouthing her neck until she gasped and found each nipple. He worked them until she was crying out for him, because _his_ people believed that mutual pleasure brought about cubs. He had to have her satisfied, and he would make sure his inexperience did not deny her that release. Scott nipped at her hips, causing her to jump and bump him more than once before he gave up and found her wet mound. The spicy scent of her desire was driving him mad. He had to taste her.

 

Scott used his hands to spread her open and pressed his tongue to the fluttering hole. He dragged his tongue up and listened to her ragged cry. He wasn't doing too bad! It went less well after that. There were moments of silence from her in which she was obviously waiting for him to find the right touch, but eventually she began to guide him and Scott's enthusiastic flickering tongue learned her body. When he slid a finger into her and curled it she began to cry out and a few minutes later she was shaking as she flooded his mouth with tangy pleasure. Her body clenched around his finger and he couldn't wait to feel that around his knot.

 

Scott knelt up, smiling down at her flushed cheeks. Her eyes were glazed and her lips full from biting them during her excitement. Scott leaned down for a quick kiss and slid a second finger into her body. Allison looked confused but soon was enjoying his continued ministrations. Now that she was very wet he went quickly to three fingers and spread them to open her up more.

 

“You're used to men, aren't you?” Allison teased.

 

Scott shook his head, “I spent my nights with patients. You're the first body I've touched, but I've thought of this for a long time and I know how it's done. I won't hurt you, my beloved.”

 

“I trust you,” She whispered in a shuddering breath, “But you don't need to stretch a woman, dearest.”

 

Scott frowned, but wasn't willing to correct her. It wasn't Allison's fault she didn't know biology the way Scott did. She was a warrior, not a healer. He knew to find her G spot and stimulate it until she tented, but he also needed to get the outer area around her vulva nice and relaxed for his knot. She'd thank him later.

 

Scott slid his fingers free and crawled up her body to straddle her shoulders, “Get me nice and wet now.”

 

Allison frowned a bit, but dutifully licked at his length. Scott didn't slide it into her mouth no matter how tempting it was, only encouraged her to keep lathing his cock until it was dripping with spit.

 

“Perfect,” He breathed, his lust so high that he was grateful for his knot. He'd be able to sate her even if he came immediately.

 

Scott moved back down her body, and distracted her with a long, deep kiss as he lined their bodies up at last. Scott slid into her body easily with all his preparation. He kept sliding their tongues together as they began to move together and moved the hand he'd used to line himself up with her entrance to tease her clit. Allison let out soft coos of pleasure as her already stimulated body began to ramp up to another climax. Scott's length was achingly hard and his knot was already starting to expand. He couldn't stop calling out her name and when his knot sealed them together he threw his head back and howled in joyful bliss.

 

Allison, however, shrieked. In terror.

 

Scott's eyes dropped to her face as she tried to look down between them, “You're swelling up!”

 

“Of course I'm-” He tried, but his voice broke as his climax rolled over him again, leaving him collapsed on top of her shaking in pleasure.

 

Allison shrieked again, but it quickly turned to a shocked moan as Scott began to rotate his hips so that his knot ground against the g-spot inside her body. Scott cried out her name and shook through another climax and now Allison understood that this wasn't _bad,_ so she gripped his ass and helped him grind his knot inside her body.

 

“Oh, my gosh!” She gasped while Scott nibbled at her ear and neck.

 

With his sanity somewhat restored, he reached down between her thighs and began to rub her clit firmly from side to side to bring her off again. When her body clenched around his knot Scott's vision went white with absolutely gratuitous pleasure as she wrung his seed from his body. By the time he stopped gasping for breath Allison was asleep beneath him, eyelids fluttering and a soft smile on her kiss-bruised lips. Scott was glad that everyone was at the silly party, or her shouts might have brought her father and his guns into the room!

 

Scott settled in to wait out his knot's release, staring down at his beautiful bride. He wanted to stay awake the entire night. He didn't want to stop staring at her gorgeous face _just in case_ , but eventually sleep took him. He dreamed of more wedding cake and the taste of the salty ocean breeze on his face.

 


	9. Chapter 9

King Stilinski the First, King Noah's father, was fed up with their alliance not working out and becoming cranky and confused in his old age. There were days he forgot it even existed and demanded his son be presented to him at once, becoming outraged when he was told his son was not only away but was married to _a man._ He would then demand Stiles, and more often than not a missive would be sent in the hopes that the prince would return and claim the throne his grandfather was no longer capable of holding. So far Stiles had not left his father's side, determined to defend their border where the danger was more severe. Stiles was the only offensive, long distance spell caster, and as such he could not be spared and his grandfather's council had to be entrusted to guard the throne from the now mad king.

 

All of that, when explained to Derek, posed a rather serious problem, because Stiles and Derek could _not_ remain now that the threat of war was neutralized.Stiles needed to return home to rule his kingdom and Derek would never leave his mate's side. So Derek made arrangements with Satomi and Scott to make sure that they were set to merge the two kingdoms successfully so that Stiles and he could go over the mountains to take care of his own. Kali and Ennis' pack were disbursed as Ennis had fled in the night and met his end at some unknown creature's hand. Thankfully Satomi had known a time before the war and was prepared to lead the pack in discovering their history, culture, and prosperity once again.

 

Meeting King Noah was daunting. The man gave him a wry grimace, pulled Stiles into a tight hug, and told him that he'd be getting a _proper wedding_ when they returned back to Stilinski land. Noah was planning on moving them immediately, and joining them just long enough to see his son married.

 

“None of this animal claiming that Scott seems to think counts as married,” Noah glared at Derek while Chris grimaced in disgust.

 

Derek frowned at the idea that his mating didn't count. He knew that humans thought differently about it, but this was daunting. He didn't want something to come between himself and his mate.

 

“Hey,” Stiles scoffed, “Don't knock it until you've tried it.”

 

“Really Stiles?” Noah groaned, “Really?!”

 

“Sorry, dad,” Stiles blushed and ducked his head.

 

“So this is your husband,” Chris gave Derek a withering glare and the alpha squared his shoulders and tried to look fertile.

 

“He's not a big talker,” Stiles chuckled.

 

“That's probably a good thing,” Noah chuckled as King Chris greeted Stiles with a warm hug as well.

 

“Oh! Get this!” Stiles bounced on his toes excitedly and ran over to Derek to put a hand on his belly, “Their men can get pregnant! The Stilinski name will live on!”

 

Derek watched as looks of understanding blossomed across Chris and Noah's faces. Poor Scott. He had to have had a hard time of things with all that culture shock. Stiles certainly had been relieved to get back to his own people. Derek just hoped that Stiles' kingdom had a forest he could escape to sometimes. He was Stiles' mate now, the king's husband, the alpha who would be housespouse. He couldn't wait to lay back and give him cubs and it showed. Scott remarked often in the week leading up to their departure how relaxed he looked now that he spent his days picking baby names instead of listing the dead. There were still skirmishes on the edges of their territory, of course, but they were being handled and peace was slowly finding it's place by the time they had both packed up their possessions in carts for the journey.

 

The journey over the mountain was much discussed because Stiles was _protective_. He was anxious about Derek traveling by horseback while possibly in the early stages of pregnancy, so a padded carriage was sorted out. Since it was going over the mountains it had to be the narrow kind they used to transport goods so Stiles oversaw the stuffing of the back of the carriage with near frenetic concern. Derek could see the king in him come out as he calmly ordered extra pillows, more support, _make it safer,_ while keeping his cool despite grinding his teeth. The human servants didn't understand and thought he was mad for demanding his pregnant _husband_ be safe for the journey.

 

Allison cried the day they left, hugging Stiles tightly and demanding he visit every summer for at _least_ a week. Stiles dutifully promised, if she would make sure his father ate healthy while he was away. His father wasn't happy about that, but King Chris looked amused.

 

Finally they were off and Derek laid back in a pile of pillows like princes from stories and smiled at his mate's doting. He felt cherished and spent the first half hour of the trip sucking Stiles into oblivion. Stiles must have been eager for cubs more than he'd let on, because he took the time to make sure Derek was pregnant twice more during their journey. By the time they arrived Derek was concerned the horny young man would be dehydrated since water was scarce along the trail.

 

Derek's first glance of the Stilinski lands was at sunrise when Stiles woke him up early and dragged him out of the carriage. The sun rose and they watched it stretch across the valley to reveal a beautiful land with honey colored fields, dark green forests, speckled orchards, and a beautiful stone castle with tall towers and bright blue turrets. In the distance a white waterfall spread a rainbow across the top of a river that flowed past the castle and off into the distance towards the ocean. Birds sang and took flight around them, goats were waking up as they started down the mountain trail, and somewhere in the distance someone was calling out for their son to hurry up and finish milking them.

 

Derek had to pause, hand over his mouth and take a few steadying breaths as he fought back tears.

 

“Morning sickness?” Stiles asked, and when Derek shook his head he panicked, “Pain?!”

 

“It's beautiful,” Derek whispered, “It's... we could raise cubs here. They could be happy. They'd never know war or famine or hatred.”

 

“Well,” Stiles took Derek's hand, “They'll probably know a _little_ hatred, but us being royalty will help keep that at bay. My grandfather isn't going to like our union, the people are going to talk about you being an 'animal', we're both guys so the church will freak, but my father and I will tell them all where to go and we'll show the people that you're not a beast. We'll have each other, and the kids will have us.”

 

Derek nodded, sobering in the face of reality. They walked for most of the morning and Derek was glad to stretch his legs after Stiles' coddling during the trip. They stopped at a stream to water the horses and freshen up. Derek happily splashed in the water, enjoying the crisp scent and the mountain chill. When they reached the castle he felt refreshed and ready to face the day.

 

To both their surprise, the king seemed completely well. He greeted them in full, regal garb and was polite and kind throughout the morning. They discussed a wedding, which was apparently an exchange of promises since humans did not mate by scent and for life as Derek's kind did. It felt good to cement it that way and when Derek showed interest in the wedding Stiles included him in the plans. Derek didn't have any opinions because he really had nothing to compare their wedding to, but he nodded whenever Stiles asked his opinion and if his grandfather disagreed Derek took Stiles' side. Whatever Stiles wanted. Easy.

 

The plans took a month, and in that time he learned that the king was indeed not well. Stiles' grandfather would become confused, angry, and even violent by evening. Derek had to be stopped from slicing his throat open when he slugged Stiles one evening after dinner. He was fuming mad and demanded that King Noah _do something_. Surely Stiles' coronation could come before the wedding!

 

Apparently not. Only a married king could ascend the throne. It was an ancient rule to ensure that heirs were produced and the name continued. In fact, Derek heard _often_ how wrong it was that a man was going to be wed to their future king because of some guy named God who disapproved. Derek wanted to challenge this God asshole for Stiles' hand but while Stiles found that hilarious it apparently wasn't possible. Derek thought the rules against their union were ridiculous, but could understand that it wasn't the norm for their men to bear children. In fact, the wedding being planned was only one step. Having it was another, and the people were demanding that there be proof that Derek was pregnant before they gave their blessing on their union. With the current king agreeing- sometimes- they were stuck.

 

Stiles began to fuck him almost desperately, taking him nightly but with more deliberation than passion. Derek didn't always climax and Stiles was driven to distraction and left him to finish himself more than once. Still, he had his mate. If their sex life wasn't perfect, well... it wasn't the most important aspect of a mating and was surely temporary. Once they pressure let up Stiles would return to the doting lover he'd been during their journey. Derek would wait for the tension to pass and then talk to him about making sure he sated them _both_. However, as the months passed and they became more distant rather than closer Derek began to resent Stiles' lack of attention.

 

Derek felt the first flutter of life four months after their initial mating and a brief exam by their healer finalized things. Instead of a joyous moment with Stiles cooing over his belly it was very medical and Stiles just looked... relieved and exhausted. Afterwards he took a nap. Alone. However, the people's blessing was received and their wedding date was set. Finally. Stiles woke up from his nap cheerful and chatty and his demands on Derek's body stopped.

 

Completely.

 

Now Derek went from a sexually demanding mate to a sexually absent one. He was confused and frustrated, but determined to wait until after the wedding. When the tension settled. That was when he would address things. Everyone assured him that brides- in this case the role Stiles had assumed by planning the wedding- were often a mess before the wedding. They called them Bridezillas, and Stiles was apparently one in rare form as he shouted everyone into obedience and demanded everything be _perfect_.

 

When the day finally arrived it wasn't the boring affair he'd been warned. Stiles had his father officiate and the man wept openly while marrying them. It was quite moving and Derek's hormonal body demanded he shed a few tears as well. Finally Stiles' eyes were on Derek again, and he held his mate's hands as Noah wrapped a silk cloth around their wrists and guided them to walk around an 'altar' three times. They then recited promises to love, cherish, and hold each other forever.

 

After the wedding was a reception and Stiles was thrilled and sucked up the attention as people commented his beautiful decorations and his equally handsome husband. They danced and it was as passionate as the sex Derek missed. Stiles smelled aroused again and Derek was looking forward to his mate finding him desirable once more. After their intense first dance Stiles pulled away, heading back for the table. Derek followed after happily, hand on his belly and stars in his eyes. However, Stiles had made a bee line to a young woman with strawberry blonde hair who sat at the table for those of high standing. As Derek approached he couldn't help but notice that Stiles' desire was focused on _her_.

 

Derek had just finished promising to love Stiles forever, and Stiles had done the same for him. Did his word mean nothing? Who _was_ this woman who stole his eyes away from his mate? Was she who he thought of when he rolled off of Derek at night for so long? And then pulled away from him completely? Derek had never known jealousy and it made him blind with rage. He was shaking with fury, following Stiles as the young man obliviously danced with the woman who apparently held his heart instead of Derek.

 

Thankfully the people's gossip told him the truth. Stiles and Duchess Lydia had been _promised_ to each other since childhood, and it had been well known that Stiles had been in love with her but that she had tried to get out of their arranged marriage. Derek could understand her feelings. Who would want their mate chosen for them? He wrote her off as not a threat, but his mate? His mate had to be taught a valuable lesson. Derek would not tolerate his betrayal.

 

Derek pulled Stiles away from the dance floor midway through his dance with Lydia, causing a stir in the room, and dragged him down a hallway while Stiles frowned at him.

 

“We still have toasts to make,” Stiles scolded, “And we haven't even had cake! Derek, the wedding _isn't over_.”

 

“Is the marriage?” Derek spun on him, eyes flashing red in anger.

 

“Wh-what?” Stiles stammered, but his paler showed he wasn't oblivious.

 

“I see how you look at her,” Derek growled, backing Stiles into an alcove and pressing him against the window box, “I can smell your desire. Does my body already repulse you? I carry your _baby_ , Stiles. She won't even _look at you.”_

 

“No, it's not. I'm not. It was a long time ago and seeing her again was just...” Stiles stammered, unsure what to say or do when confronted with his almost betrayal, “I planned a wedding for us when we were _children_ , I just... I'm so sorry, Derek, it's not what it looks like!”

 

“If it's not what it looks like than why are you apologizing?” Derek snapped angrily.

 

“Because you're angry and I'm a little afraid of you,” Stiles squeaked.

 

Derek put an arm around his waist and pulled him against him tightly, “You should be. I've been denied pleasure in and out of your bed for _months_ , Stiles. You have neglected me and now you look to another. How should I respond if not with anger? My kind would _never_ betray me like this!”

 

“But, I didn't mean to...” Stiles stammered, but his guilt belied his protests. He knew full well he'd let Derek down in multiple ways, “I'm sorry. I haven't been thinking of you. I just... My entire life has been planned out for me. Every second. From birth through adulthood and even through the war my father told me what to do _every day of my life_ , and duty meant I had to obey. You told me we were mating and how it was going down. Then we get here and my damn grandfather wants to tell me to throw it away and marry Lydia and I just-”

 

Derek roared angrily and Stiles gripped his shoulders tightly, closing his eyes and trembling in fear and... lust?

 

Derek took a breath and tried to calm down, but his voice was full of bitterness when he spoke, “What do you want from me, Stiles? I've done nothing but dote on you and give you my body over and over again. Even when you didn't bother to respect it. What else can I do to earn your love? Can I?”

 

Stiles' eyes flickered with guilt, “You have it. I just... I'm out of control! My head won't stop _buzzing_ and I can't focus! I don't know what to do! I don't even want her! I swear!”

 

Stiles' heartbeat was steady. Whatever Derek had smelled, it hadn't been for her. Stiles was confused and afraid and so very sad, but he was clinging to Derek tightly and begging him for forgiveness with his eyes.

 

“So what do you _need?”_ Derek tried, because he knew what happened to men who were afraid and lacking guidance. They made mistakes.

 

Stiles' cheeks flushed and his hands gripped Derek's shoulders tighter. He took a slow breathe and spoke again.

 

“Control.”

 

“You have it! I've followed you to your kingdom, will birth your children, and obey you as my king!”

 

“I mean... I want to _give up_ control. To stop my brain from running around in circles. I know how to lead a country, I've been taught that from day one, but I don't know how to do _this_. I was taught it was a business arrangement, that Lydia would lie with me only as often as necessary to get two heirs, but you want _love_ and I'm _scared._ So. Love me. Show me how to love you. Please?”

 

Derek wasn't sure what he meant at first, because he'd been _showing him love_ for _months,_ but as he spoke Stiles took his hands back and loosened his clothes. His cheeks were pink, pupils dilated, and he licked his lips anxiously before speaking again.

 

“I want you to... to mount me. Take me. Own me. I need to know that I can rely on you to be the general I was so hot for in prison.”

 

Derek hadn't expected that. Not if Stiles felt _controlled_ all the time, but it also made sense. Stiles had to suddenly and abruptly go from following to leading, and even in the bed Derek had left him to do more of the same. If Lydia drew him because she was part of the 'plan' than Derek had to be the new plan. He had to be who Stiles could lean on and trust to support him. He needed Derek to be the rock that the waves of that brilliant mind could crash into when it became a tempest.

 

Derek shredded their fine clothes without a moment's hesitance. His rich mate could get more pretty clothes and surely he'd never wear the uncomfortable things again. Stiles gasped and Derek tackled him. He pinned him against the window ledge, lifting him up off the ground and holding him in place by his gorgeous ass.

 

Since Stiles had been so hot and cold with sex Derek had made sure to keep lubricant on him at all times. He slid a finger into Stiles without preamble while kissing him stupid, and was surprised at how easily his body opened up. When he got to three fingers he broke the kiss to growl at him.

 

“You lied to me. How? I should be able to hear it.”

 

“Wha-?” Stiles was speechless with pleasure, shaking his head mutely in disagreement.

 

“Your body opens up too readily for a man who has never been taken by another,” Derek scolded, “You forget my culture puts no pressure on purity. Your past doesn't matter to me, but if I'd known you'd been mounted before I would have taken you sooner.”

 

Stiles shook his head again and his eyes flew open. When he spoke it was fast and frantic with his need to be taken.

 

“I lied to _them,_ not to you. I've always wanted men more than women. Always. But it wasn't allowed. I couldn't... I just... I used...” Stiles whispered the next word in shame, “ _cucumbers_. I wanted... so badly... but I shouldn't... it's _wrong!_ ”

 

“Does this _feel_ wrong?” Derek asked, spreading his fingers and grazing Stiles' p-spot until he groaned loudly.

 

“N-nooooo,” Stiles moaned, “So good, feels _so good_.”

 

Derek growled in approval and slid his fingers free to hoist him up higher. Stiles' legs went around his waist and Derek spent a moment finding his twitching hole. When he finally sank into his body they both let out a torn sound of longing and need.

 

Stiles' brow was damp, his eyes tightly shut, but there was no trace of pain on his face. Derek began to take him eagerly, his need overwhelming him. His knot would take care of Stiles' needs, and there was no way he was holding it back now that he knew that Stiles was hard up to bottom. When Stiles' brain was properly rattled in his skull, and his voice hoarse from screaming Derek's, the alpha let his knot expand and pinned his mate in place with arms and cock.

 

“Oh gods!” Stiles cried out, clawing at his back and pulling Derek's hair, “Oh my gosh, oh no, oh _yes, oh fuck!”_

 

Derek growled in agreement, pleasure making him pant hard as he began to fill his mate with come. He was going to climax multiple times and Stiles would be dripping with it by the time he was done with him, but Derek wasn't the only one pouring out his lust. His knot was milking Stiles' prostate, causing a steady stream of fluid to bead up and drip down his rigid length. Stiles was too overcome to do more than take his knot and whimper in need.

 

Derek was tempted to leave him unsatisfied, but he enjoyed his mate's pleasure too much for petty revenge. Instead he let Stiles' body tense in his arms, welcomed his embrace and the muffled cries against his neck and jaw, and when he reached his own second climax he reached between them to stroke Stiles' aching shaft.

 

“Oh god, I'm-” Stiles sobbed in his arms, then convulsed as his member twitched in Derek's hand.

 

His balls were nearly empty from his prostate being milked, but what little he had managed to land on his chest with the force of his orgasm. Derek growled in approval and licked it off before giving him a gentle bite and sucking a mark into his neck. Stiles keened in pleasure and went limp in Derek's arms, twitching slightly as his stimulated body settled. It took him several stunned and sated moments to realize what Derek had already known.

 

“We're stuck like this, aren't we?” Stiles asked, eyes flying open.

 

“Relax,” Derek ordered, “I've got you.”

 

Stiles paused, anxiety rolling off of him in waves, and then let out a slow breath and went limp in his arms once more. He snuggled his cheek into Derek's shoulder when the alpha turned them to sit down in the window seat. Derek rubbed his back gently and let himself relax as pleasure throbbed through his still locked knot. He rubbed his jaw against the top of Stiles' head and whispered soft comfort to him between soft moans of bliss.

 

“I'll always be here, Stiles,” Derek breathed, “I'll always support you. I'm a strong mate. A fighter. An alpha. A general. I'll give you cubs and _power_ and a lifetime of joy and arguments.”

 

Stiles snorted, “I _bet_ you'll argue with me.”

 

“Yup. You're not always going to get your way.”

 

“Thank you,” Stiles breathed, “For... everything. For understanding. For just being my mate. I won't let you down again.”

 

“I won't leave you to struggle alone again.”

 

“Sire?” A nervous voice asked.

 

Stiles jumped but Derek had known he was there and was giving the human a red-eyed glare. Stiles went stiff in his arms in alarm.

 

“Uh... yes?”

 

“I was sent by your father to ask if you're... forgive me for quoting him directly... 'done flashing the entire kingdom'.”

 

“Oh my _gods and goddesses_ ,” Stiles hissed, lifting his head as he noticed the window at last, “You got me to moon the kingdom and do the gross well-fucked-hole thing!!”

 

Derek smirked, “It's tradition.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Bonus Chapter.

 

This is going to be SAD, but it's going to end on an uplifting note. You do need to read the last bit to finish the story out, but if you don't want to it's not the end of the world. This is Chris and Noah's relationship.

 

 

Chris wasn't proud of himself for crying before his wedding, but he had no way to stop the tears. His wife's body was barely cold in the grave, having been ended by his own hand when she'd been bitten by the biggest damn werewolf he'd ever seen. Alpha Ennis, from what his intelligence had told them. His hands didn't only have his wife's blood on them, they also had his sister's. She'd been hung under his orders that morning for prolonging the war and murdering innocent beings during a truce. Treason wasn't how he'd expected to see his sister ended, but he hadn't been shocked the war had resulted in her death. She had always been a pistol. The problem was that the second death ended the truce with the Stilinski's that they desperately needed to survive, and the first one saved it in the most awful way.

 

King Noah had been apologetic when King Chris had asked him to marry him. Imagine. Apologizing for accepting a proposal of marriage. It was already an alteration in the laws just for two men to marry, but this wasn't going to be a marriage of love like his first had been. It was to save lives. After all, if the werewolves succeeded in the war they wouldn't trade with the Stilinski's like the Argents had in the past. They'd shun the humans that Gerard Argent had taught them were dangerous, or worse attack. Noah's only hope was to find peace fast for his son before he lost her in war as well, and he more than understood that Chris wanted his daughter to be free of such a burden as well.

 

Chris was numb by the time the wedding actually happened. He stared into Noah's eyes and let himself sink into deep depression. At least he was marrying a friend. Noah was a good man. He'd help him through the worst of his loss because he too had buried his beloved years ago.

 

Chris was lost recalling Noah's broken years drowning in liquor after Claudia had died. He'd reigned in his wild son and kept him so close he'd basically smothered him. Stiles' personality had slowly withered beneath his father's guilt-ridden thumb. Everything was about running the kingdom, but since his elderly father was still king at the time he'd been assuming the function of the sheriff and spending his time learning how the people lived and keeping law and order. He'd dragged Stiles along for years, unintentionally keeping him isolated from his peers in his desperation to keep the young man close. Stiles had no friends and his betrothed petitioned repeatedly to end their union.

 

Now Noah would have more freedom in Chris' kingdom, and be officially crowned a king as Chris' spouse. He'd already eased up on both drinking and micromanaging his son over the years, but he'd be facing a war instead of street troubles and werewolves were no joke. He fully expected Noah to tighten the reins on Stiles again, which was only fitting as the boy was now the only heir to the Stilinski kingdom and would remain so since Noah was no longer to marry a woman.

 

When Noah leaned forward and touched their lips together Chris jumped in surprise. He hadn't been paying attention. The ceremony was over, with them having skipped vows in favor of rushing the ceremony. Attendance was low. Most of the lords and ladies didn't approve so their wedding would have been silent had it not been for Allison's soft sniffling over the loss of her mother and aunt.

 

Allison was broken. She couldn't eat the food and Chris only managed a few bites before pushing his wine glass away. He didn't want to become a lush like Noah had after the loss of his wife. Most of the dinner afterwards was walked outside to the people and donated since there were so few guests to eat it.

 

Indeed, the only person who seemed to be enjoying himself was Stiles, who was excited to have a sister and kept staring at Noah and Chris curiously. After a while Noah pulled him aside to have a harsh word with him. Chris overheard it but was too despondent to really process or respond.

 

“I know this is a party, but it's not that kind of party, kiddo. Take a few breaths and wipe that grin off your face.”

 

“Are you serious?” Stiles scoffed, “I'm the only one making this a party!”

 

“It's not a party. It's a funeral with people in white,” Noah snapped, “They buried Victoria a month ago, Stiles. Kate isn't even in the ground yet. They're _devastated_. For a few minutes just try to remember that this isn't _your wedding_. Got that?”

 

“Yeah, I got that.”

 

“You're marrying a _woman_. You're marrying _Lydia_.”

 

“I heard you!” Stiles snapped, excitement erased in the face of his father's disapproval.

 

“Good. Now behave yourself.”

 

It was a few hours later, as Chris sat down on the bed feeling numb and tired, that Noah tried to apologize for his son's behavior that night.

 

“It's just that he's so excited that men can marry now,” Noah told him as he changed into a long, soft night dress.

 

“Hm?” Chris cottoned on and looked up, “Why?”

 

“Because Stiles is gay,” Noah sighed, “He says he's attracted to both, but he's not. The only reason he has any interest in Lydia at all is because she's so... well... _Lydia_. I think he more wants to be as popular, fabulous, and gorgeous than he wants to _marry_ miss popular, fabulous, and gorgeous.”

 

“He only likes men?” Noah frowned, “That's a problem. Will Allison need to have children for both our kingdoms?”

 

“She might not,” Noah sighed, “Lydia loves a knight in our kingdom. He'll give her children when my son fails to. I'll pretend they're Stilinski's and dandle them on my knee and never shame him. Maybe he'll find a nice knight to love in secret as well.”

 

“Poor boy,” Chris replied, then reconsidered, “Then again, if you never love you can never... lose...”

 

He was weeping again. Sobbing brokenly with snot running down his nose and his chest aching with the force of his gasping breaths. Noah's arms went around him and he rocked him gently, not bothered by the mess the man was making on his bedclothes.

 

“I know,” Noah soothed, voice cracking, “It hurts _so much_ right now. I'd tell you it gets easier, but it doesn't. It just feels less like suffocating eventually. And then you stop looking for her when you wake up. Eventually you forget what she smells like or looks like and it feels like you failed her, but everyone tells you it's normal so you slowly start to accept it. Someday you wake up and it doesn't burn your heart through your rib cage anymore and you realize that this is what moving on feels like, but it doesn't get easier. Not with a kingdom to run and a child with her nose.”

 

Noah sniffled and gripped Chris tighter. If he was ashamed of crying on his wedding night he didn't show it, and Chris didn't stop until long after he'd fallen asleep. He woke up with the pillow stiff from his salty tears and rolled over to find the arm around him belonged to a friend instead of his wife and _wailed_ out his loss.

 

For weeks Noah let him fall apart, never expecting him to show up to meetings or even leave their rooms. Eventually, however, he had to pull him away from mourning to face his military leaders again. Kate's treason had sparked far too many burdens. The werewolves weren't responding to requests for peace, not even the most beneficial offers were being accepted. In fact, they were killing off their peace envoys and a decision had to be made. So Chris left his bedchambers and remembered along the way that he had a _daughter_ that had lost her mother and aunt all in a month only to have her father withdraw completely.

 

Allison had dealt with the loss far better than he had, but in a completely different way. She was in the war room, in full armor, with a long bow at her side like a scepter and eyes cold with hate. When he entered she stood up, met his eyes, and demanded they stop sending peace envoys before even greeting him.

 

“They _slaughter them_ , father. They're _monsters_.”

 

Chris' eyes slid away from hers. He couldn't meet her eyes and give this answer.

 

“They're winning, Allison. We have no choice but to beg for peace or die trying to attain it.”

 

“Then we should DIE FIGHTING!” She raged.

 

Stiles gave her a sad look and nodded to Chris before putting his hand out to grip her arm. She jerked it away but let him lead her from the rooms. The real discussions began and the ideas were honestly no better than Allison's. No one knew how to get through to the werewolves that they just didn't want to fight anymore. They had tried white flags. They'd tried bringing food with them in offering. Gifts. At one point they'd approached while playing classical music. Nothing had gotten through to them.

 

Chris had no new ideas and he retired to bed feeling hopeless but also restless. He couldn't settle so he paced the room in his bedclothes and fretted. Noah tried to talk him into calmness, but to no avail.

 

“I need a woman, not a discussion,” Chris growled out, leaning over the fireplace and scowling into the flames. It was a cold winter and he was chilled to the bone. He wanted release and the warmth of a body to hold, “I can't focus.”

 

“Is there a maid or...?” Noah offered, looking uncomfortable, “Should I sleep elsewhere?”

 

“No,” Chris sighed, “I'm not ready for that. I need it, but I don't want it.”

 

“I did, after Claudia,” Noah replied, “I got drunk and slept my way through every willing staff member. On our wedding night Stiles joked since I can't sire an official child again we should see which of the maid's children has grown up to have the Stilinski charm and just declare them legitimate.”

 

“I don't want to drink myself stupid,” Chris scoffed, and then winced, “I'm sorry. That was...”

 

“Accurate,” Noah replied, standing up behind him and gripping his shoulder, “I regret that part as well, but I don't really see another way I could handle it. It's what my father taught me. What did yours teach you about coping with loss?”

 

“To be the one doing the killing,” Chris replied coldly.

 

“Yet you want peace.”

 

“I don't,” Chris replied, “I'm as angry as Allison is. I want to burn them to the ground.”

 

“Well they seem to want that, too. Chris... Stiles...” Noah started, “He's... powerful. Most people don't know this, but he could turn the tide.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Chris asked, turning in surprise.

 

“I'm invoking my right as a husband when I say this,” Noah stated firmly, “This stays a secret. If he goes to war it's from a distance and he wears a mask to protect his identity.”

 

“What could one boy do?”

 

“Burn the shit out of them,” Noah replied softly, “You wanted the witches on your side? You've got them. Claudia's power went to Stiles. He's a witch, and a powerful one. I don't know if he'll agree to fight- he's just a boy- but at the very least he can enchant weapons, boost strength, and heal your people to give them the same edge the werewolves have.”

 

Chris caught the back of Noah's head and dragged him in for a steamy kiss, then pulled back in alarm.

 

“I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking,” Chris spoke quickly.

 

“It's fine,” Noah waved him off, flushing red, “I'm your husband, after all.”

 

“Yes, but... we're both _men_ ,” Chris reminded him with a frown.

 

“Stiles gets it from somewhere,” Noah gave a limp-wristed gesture, “I fancy men. Luckily for Stiles I also enjoy women or he wouldn't have been born.”

 

“I don't... know what I...” Chris shook his head, “It's never even crossed my mind as an option.”

 

“Well,” Noah shrugged, “It exists now, so you can enjoy it or not. Find a maid or join me in our marriage bed someday. I'll still respect you in the morning either way.”

 

Noah turned and climbed into their bed, turning on his favored side and letting out a sigh as he snuggled into the covers. Chris paced the room for a few more hours, long after the embers burned down and his feet were numb from the cold. When he finally slipped into the bed Noah hissed at his cold intrusion and then turned to help him warm up by rubbing his hands and letting him brace his feet between his calves.

 

“You're going to catch your death,” Noah scolded, “I know you're hurting, but-”

 

Before he could remind him that Allison or the kingdom needed him Chris leaned in and kissed him again. Noah let him, but he didn't demand more when Chris pressed their bodies together and just rubbed himself to release. Noah's breath was hot on the top of Chris' head and he was hard against his husband's hip. Chris didn't know if Noah finished, but only because he fell almost instantly asleep.

 

When he woke up the man had cleaned him and they didn't speak of their stolen moments together, but over the years it happened more and more often. Stiles rained magic down on their soldiers and stopped the advance from taking the fort, winning back the island in a single day. He helped food grow. He created stronger armor and enchanted shields. Howeverm the young man refused to kill, especially once his identity was leaked. He believed he would not be able to rule a kingdom as the witch who committed mass murder. He turned the tide from a slaughter to a stalemate, but he couldn't win the day.

 

That honor belonged to Allison years later when she snuck away in the night to finish her Aunt's plan of murdering the werewolves in their sleep and instead fell in love with one. By that point in time Chris had found the peace Noah had promised he would. Ne would never be _over_ Victoria, but he didn't look for her every day. He no longer felt that loving Noah was a betrayal as he had for a long time. And he did love him. It wasn't the passion that he'd had with Victoria. He didn't feel like he would die without him. Instead it was a calm, comforting love. A friend who was so very dear to him that they finished each other's sentences. It was quiet and soft and supportive and occasionally teasing and fun. They sated each other at night and supported each other by day. Stiles looked on with jealousy in his eyes, wishing that his own fate were not sealed. Like any witch, he later proved that his future was under his own power and Noah was proud of him despite his snarky remarks and fears.

 

However, true happiness, true emotional peace, didn't happen until over a year later when Allison presented them with a little girl to carry on the Argent name. She wailed and cried as Allison announced the birth of the princess Victoria and Chris felt something in him finally, finally heal. He held Noah's hand and softly suggested a visit to the Stilinski lands the moment the ice melted.

 

It was a good decision. Derek had been first to birth a child, but his had been born during the winter months when the pass was frozen so Noah hadn't even heard of his grandson's birth. Little Prince Talon was sitting up by the time they met him, his nose twitching curiously as he sniffed out his grandparents and raised a single eyebrow as if to ask why they hadn't visited sooner. Noah was smitten. He made silly faces at the baby and cooed over him for hours while Derek's pack preened over their perfect child's presentation to his family. When Talon fell asleep Noah smiled down at him lovingly until Derek stole him away to for a feeding.

 

It seemed odd to watch a man nurse a baby so Noah left them to it and Chris made sure he was in position to overhear the conversation with Stiles that followed.

 

“You did good, son,” Noah spoke softly, “That is one perfect baby you've got there.”

 

“He's got two awesome dads,” Stiles replied proudly, “Derek was a trooper when he was in labor. He only physically scarred one doctor. I was very proud.”

 

“You know I never hated you, right? When you showed up with a man in tow and the promise of future babies I was so relieved. I wish I could have given you a more normal life.”

 

Stiles was silent for a moment and then sighed heavily and clasped his father's shoulder, “I wouldn't want that. There's no such thing as _normal,_ dad. I know that now. There's nothing wrong with being gay. It's okay, and... and you shouldn't be ashamed of you and dad Chris.”

 

“I didn't mean that, Stiles,” Noah scoffed, “I meant the _prince_ thing. If we hadn't been royalty I would never have told you that you had to marry a woman.”

 

“If we hadn't been royalty it would still be illegal,” Stiles reminded him softly, “Someone had to suffer for the future generations. I'm glad it was me and not my son. Whoever he loves is going to be his future spouse and that's more valuable than all the jewels in our coffers.”

 

Noah smiled softly and glanced back at where Chris was spying on them, “It really is.”

 


End file.
